


Pilot Project

by akamarykate



Category: Early Edition
Genre: AU, Air Crash Investigators AU, Fandom, Meta, love letter to fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamarykate/pseuds/akamarykate
Summary: Can the revival of a beloved, if somewhat obscure, television drama from the late 1990s ever get off the ground?





	1. Flight Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amilyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amilyn/gifts).



> Many, many thanks to Jayne L. for her amazing help that went above and beyond beta-ing (several of the funniest things in here came from her).
> 
> Thanks, as well, to Amilyn for the prompt that fueled this madness, and to all the BiCs and EELs who inspired...well, you'll see. *eg*

**From the Office of the President**

**CBS Network**

**To: Ashley LeFevour, Executive Vice President of Programming**

**Re: More Revivals**

Now that our revivals of _Hawaii 5-0_ , _Star Trek_ , and _MacGyver_ are doing so well, I'm thinking it's time we bring back our Saturday Night Standbys. Think _Walker Texas Ranger, Touched by an Angel_ , and _Dr. Quinn, Lady Doctor_. What was that one in Chicago with the cat? Could we talk Kyle Chandler into that?

Lester Sunpanse

President, CBS

 - - - - - - -

**To: President Sunpanse**

**From: EVP Ashley LeFevour**

**Re: More Revivals**

Hi Lester,

Great idea! I agree that CBS has a rich history to mine when it comes to reviving great series. I'll have my people talk to Jane Seymour's agent and feel her out.

As far as _Early Edition_ (that's the one with Kyle Chandler), I'm afraid it would be a non-starter. Nobody reads newspapers. The _Sun-Times_ fired all their photographers a couple years back.

Ashley

\- - - - - - -

 

**From the Office of the President**

**CBS Network**

**To: Ashley LeFevour, Executive Vice President of Programming**

**Re: More Revivals**

_Early Edition_! That was it. Such a great title. I think this idea has legs, Ashley, and I know you can make it work. Let's contact the actors' agents to gauge their interest. Don't forget Kristy Swanson. I was responsible for bringing her on. The only mistake we made there was waiting three seasons to give Chandler a love interest. What's that cat doing nowadays, anyway?

 Find me a showrunner who can do this right, and we'll have a hit. Think we can lure Shonda away from ABC? I bet J. J. Abrams is ready for a fresh new concept. Or what about Vince Gilligan, or one of his EPs? They made a meth dealing antihero appealing, so they should be able to figure out the newspaper angle. Maybe tomorrow's news comes on his iPhone and we can get some cross-promotion going with Apple.

 Lester Sunpanse

President, CBS

 - - - - - - -

  **To: President Sunpanse**

**From: EVP Ashley LeFevour**

**Re: More Revivals**

I've been shopping your idea, and interest hasn't been exactly enthusiastic. But I'm wondering: what if we try a kind of reverse reboot? Instead of the same story with a different cast, we could have the same cast, playing the same characters, generating the same chemistry—but in a _completely different story_.

We could invent a whole new genre here.

I have a few ideas for showrunner; let me talk to some people and get back to you.

Ashley

 - - - - - - -

**From the Office of the President**

**CBS Network**

**To: Ashley LeFevour, Executive Vice President of Programming**

**Re: More Revivals**

I was reluctant to go down this road at first, but last night I had dinner with my brother's family. None of them remember _Early Edition_ , but the adults were enthusiastic about seeing Kyle Chandler in a new show. I told them about your "reverse reboot" idea and my niece, who's sixteen, mentioned there's fan-fiction out there on a site (I think she said it's called a Tumble Pad) where her favorite superhero characters all work in grocery stores together. Amended Universes, I think they're called.

I'm sure you and one of our idea guys can come up with something more interesting than a grocery store setting, something that will draw in the young people like my niece through socialized media along with their parents. Let's make this happen.

Lester Sunpanse

President, CBS

 P.S. Any word yet from Seymour?

 - - - - - - -

T **o: President Sunpanse**

**From: EVP Ashley LeFevour**

**Re: More Revivals**

I believe the term you're looking for is Alternate Universe. Not sure this will draw the teenagers in, but they're not our target demographic anyway.

I've spoken with the agents of most of the original cast. As I expected, some aren't available. Fisher Stevens passed—he's busy directing and producing these days. Kristy Swanson is a soft no, but we can keep working on her if you think it's important. We do have interest from Chandler, Shanesia Davis, Ron Dean, and Luis Antonio Ramos.

I've contacted a potential showrunner. She has a great concept in mind: Air Crash Investigators who work for the NTSB. It'd be a procedural along the lines of NCIS or Criminal Minds, but with airplane crashes. High stakes, lots of potential for human drama within a solid formula. I'll see if she's interested and available and get back to you with her proposal.

Ashley

\- - - - - - -

**From the Office of the President**

**CBS Network**

**To: Ashley LeFevour, Executive Vice President of Programming**

**Re: More Revivals**

 I love it! I want to see a proposal ASAP.

 Lester Sunpanse

President, CBS

 P.S. I'll contact Kristy personally. I'm sure we can get her on board.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

***incoming text alert***

**Ashley LeFevour** : Got the go-ahead from LS on your Air Crash Investigators ideas for the revival project. Start writing!

 **Hailey Alderman:** You're kidding. I thought he'd go for the _Game of Thrones_ knockoff.

 **AL** : He loved the idea, but not the pricetag. I figure this is a better fit for our brand right now, anyway. We have two of the leads interested: Chandler and Davis.

 **HA:** No Fisher Stevens?

 **AL** :  Sorry.

 **HA:**   Did you ask about the magic angle?

 **AL** : For right now, he'd rather keep that out of it. He thinks that's what tanked EE in the first place.

  **HA:** He thinks its premise tanked a show that lasted four seasons??

  **AL** : I know. Believe me.

  **AL** :  If you want to work a tiny bit of magic in with the spec script, or make the Hobson character…I don't know, a savant or something, that might be worth a shot. But he can't know about the crashes ahead of time, or the show would be all about him stopping them. The team would have nothing to investigate.

  **HA** : Good point.

  **AL** : Maybe in the third or fourth season, when they have to cut the budget for special effects and location shoots for the crashes, we can switch it up.

  **HA:** Yeah, Gary could start getting tomorrow's NTSB reports today! J

  **AL** : Heh.

  **HA:** He still has to have the cat, though. That cat is the one thing people seem to remember about the show. Hmmm…maybe the cat could be the bit of magic.

  **AL** : One warning: LS wants to bring back Kristy Swanson's character.

  **HA:**  Ugh!

  **AL** : Don't think she'll agree. In today's climate, her *alleged* history with LS is problematic at least. Can we distract him with another love interest?

  **HA:**  OMG. Is Constance Marie available?

  **AL** : Really?

  **HA:**  She had great chemistry with KC. I thought that was why they tanked the Swanson character??

  **AL** : Maybe? There were other issues.

  **HA:**  I would LOVE to write a pilot with her involved.

  **AL** : I'll see what I can do.

  **AL** : BTW LS wants to call it NTSB: AIC. Says it fits the mold of CBS shows like JAG, NCIS, and CSI. But I don't know, it's a lot more letters, and it feels like too much of a mouthful.

  **HA:** What are they going to do if he gets the spinoffs he wants, call them NTSB:AIC:Denver/Anchorage/Seattle, etc?? That'll never fit in a hashtag. Who's the target audience for this, anyway?

  **AL** : Whoever we can get to watch it.


	2. Boarding Call

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squirve.com)

**From:** [ **CatPage@fmail.com** ](mailto:CatPage@fmail.com)

**Date: November 11, 2016, 10:21 PM**

**Subject: Is this thing on?**

Hi everyone,

Long time no posts. I guess email lists are mostly extinct now, but just in case there's anyone still reading…I saw a rumor going around on Tumblr that Kyle Chandler is considering a new project for CBS?!? Any ideas about what's going on? I know I shouldn't dare hope it's a revival of our beloved EE, but the heart wants what it wants, right?

 Anybody else hear about this? Anyone else still here??

 CatonnaPaper

(OMG it's been SO long since I used this screen name!)

 - - - - - - -

 **To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **SaraBrush@coldmail.com** ](mailto:SaraBrush@coldmail.com)

**Date: November 11, 2016, 11:14 PM**

**Subject: Is this thing on?**

 *waves*

I'm still here! I hadn't heard, but now I'm going searching for answers because that would be amazing! Early Edition, the next generation? How awesome would that be? How do you think he gets the news now?

Sara B., who used to go by "GaryInnaTowel" on this list and is not at all ashamed.

\- - - - - - -

 **To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: LAbrams@fmail.com**

**Date: November 17, 2016, 8:21 AM**

**Subject: Is this thing on?**

Holy crap holy crap holy crap! Did you all see this bit in _Variety_? It's buried in a longer article about the old guard networks trying to reclaim the ground they're losing to Netflix and Hulu, but anyway: 

>>…rumor has it CBS has been talking to Constance Marie, most recently of ABC Family's _Switched at Birth_ , about a lead role in a new drama series, where she would co-star with Kyle Chandler, provided he doesn't have an unbreakable deal with Netflix after his starring turn in _Bloodline_. <<

 I mean, the article doesn't even mention _Early Edition_ , but WHY ELSE WOULD THEY PUT THEM TOGETHER?

 *dies and iz ded*, as the kids like to say…

 Lizzie

PS: OMG you guys, I've missed you all so much! Here's hoping our little fandom has some life in it yet…

 - - - - - - -

  **To: Early Edition Fans**[ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com**](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: highlyanonymous@fmail.com**

**Date: November 23, 2016, 9:35 AM**

**Subject: Is this thing on?**

Okay, so, I really shouldn't do this. NO ONE I work with can find out about it, but as far as I can tell there are, what, five people still subscribed to this list? A dozen? And I figure anyone who's still here will be the most invested in what's happening and deserves, more than anyone else, to know what's going on. But if any inkling, no matter how small, gets to the press, I am done here, and so is your hotline to what's really going on.

You see, I work at CBS, and I can confirm the rumors that have awakened this list are true—sort of. The _Variety_ tidbit is real. CBS is in talks with Kyle Chandler and Constance Marie about a project, but it won't exactly be _Early Edition_. They're telling a different story, but they want to use the same actors AND characters. It's something that hasn't been done before, at least not in this way, so they're hoping the groundbreaking nature of the project will draw critical interest and, of course, viewers.

I can also confirm several other actors from the original show have been contacted, including Shanesia Davis, Ron Dean, and Michael Whaley. No word yet on what the series would be about or when they'd film the pilot, but some people who are VERY high up in the CBS hierarchy are invested in the project. Stay tuned!

Highly Anonymous

(And desperately needing to stay that way)

 - - - - - - -

 **To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **SaraBrush@coldmail.com** ](mailto:SaraBrush@coldmail.com)

**Date: November 23, 2016, 9:44 AM**

**Subject: SQUEEEEEE!!**

Oh, HA, if this is true, you have made my ~~day~~ ~~week~~ YEAR!

SaraB

 - - - - - - -

 **To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: LAbrams@fmail.com**

**Date: November 17, 2016, 10:53 AM**

**Subject: SQUEEEEEE!!**

MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS TO ME!!! (and all of us, but mostly to ME!!)

Lizzie

 - - - - - - -

 **To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **CatPage@fmail.com** ](mailto:CatPage@fmail.com)

**Date: November 23, 2016, 1:03 PM**

**Subject: SQUEEEEEE!!**

Calm down, everyone. We don't even know if Highly Anonymous is for real, if they really work for CBS, if they actually have access to this kind of insider information, and why they'd divulge it here. I would love to believe this is true (except for the "whole new story" part, because if we don't have the story of Gary Hobson, Reluctant Hero, saving the world, grumping at his cat, and wearing plaid, what exactly is the point???), but I'm going to need more evidence before I give my heart away. Remember the rumors about the last two seasons finally coming out on DVD a couple ten years or so ago??

CatonnaPaper

Who is still waiting for my uncut, Hallmark-logo-free versions of S3&4.

\- - - - - - -

 **To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: highlyanonymous@fmail.com**

**Date: November 23, 2016, 1:24 AM**

**Subject: SQUEEEEEE!!**

I understand Cat's reluctance to believe me. If it makes anyone feel better, I can contact the ListMod (is there still a ListMod? Paging IHeartHobson!) privately and give her some of my details. But rest assured I've been a fan since EE premiered in 1996; heck, I wrote fanfiction and that gave me the confidence to go into writing for television, which is how I wound up at CBS. I've been a member of this list since it started (I believe the first post-ep discussion was about "Thief Swipes Mayor's Dog"). I can even tell you what the initials of the GTA ficwriting collective stood for (I won't, but I can!).

I know it sucks that we won't get everything we'd want in this reboot, but for me, the thrill will be seeing the characters interacting again. That was always my favorite part. And for all you shippers, rest assured there'll be a heavy focus on the much teased, much missed Gary/Toni romance (be still my heart!)

Another tidbit: They're talking to animal trainers to find a lookalike for Carl, who played Cat in the original series.

Hugs, my friends! Provided I don't see any leaks, I'll be back with more when I know more.

Highly Anonymous


	3. Everyone Has Baggage

**CBS Interoffice Memo**  
**To: Ashley LeFervour**  
**From: Hailey Alderman**  
**Re: Pilot Project**

Hi Ashley,

My pitch is enclosed: logline, core concept, summary, character list, and episode plan for the new series. For now, I'm going with Mr. Sunpanse's wishes and calling it _NTSB: Air Crash Investigators._ I'm hoping we can talk about a more creative title if we're greenlit.

I've taken Mr. Sunpanse's notes into account, especially in terms of the character bios, but between the two of us, I've twisted some of his requests a bit to fit my conception of the characters (see his notes, attached) and I'll address others in the pilot script. I hope you'll agree my solutions meet his concerns without derailing my intention to make this show more character-driven than most standard CBS procedurals, while still keeping the hopeful tone and diversity of the original _Early Edition_. Of course we'll develop the characters' backgrounds more as we move through the episodes, exposing their histories and issues gradually. We'll have plenty of compelling plotlines, but the real arcs in this series will be based in the characters' relationships.

Thanks for your support, for your input on the early drafts of this pitch, and for trusting me with this project! Let me know how talks with the actors' agents are going. 

Hailey

\- - - -

**Logline**

A team of NTSB investigators searches for the causes of airplane crashes and save the lives of travelers while trying to avoid being grounded by turbulence in their personal relationships.

\- - - - 

**Core Concept**

_NTSB: Air Crash Investigators_ is a prime-time hour-long procedural show about a group of investigators who use technical expertise, investigative skills, and creative intuition to discover the causes of airplane crashes and prevent new crashes from happening in the future.

\- - - -

**Summary**

Gary Hobson is a mid-career investigator with the National Transportation Safety Board office in Washington, DC. After years of investigating air crashes, he is anxious to take on a leading role and advance his way up the career ladder. Gary, who is recently divorced, has a close-knit friendship with Marissa Clark, a blind Transportation Disaster Assistance Specialist who has spent her early career working with crash victims and their families and is in training to become an investigator.

Gary's hopes of career advancement hit a road bump when a new investigator, Antonia (Toni) Brigatti, is promoted to headquarters in Washington, DC, from the Western Pacific Regional offices in Seattle and is given the lead role over Gary on their very first investigation together. Toni has a no-nonsense approach, a stellar track record, and, much to her chagrin, red-hot chemistry with Gary.

Overseen by Chief Investigator Zeke Crumb, Gary, Toni, Marissa, and the rest of the Air Crash Investigators must learn to work as a team when confronting crashes of small and large aircraft as well as forces of nature, engineering failures, and corporate and political corruption. As in the real NTSB, the composition of the teams, and their leadership, will vary from one investigation to the next, offering opportunities for multifaceted relationships among the group. Equal parts investigative procedural and character drama, _NTSB: Air Crash Investigators_ focuses on the interactions among the characters' histories and relationships and their work lives, providing multiple points of interest and connection for a wide range of viewers.

**\- - - -**

**From the Office of the President**

**CBS Network**

**To: Hailey Alderman**

**cc: Ashley LeFervour**

**Re: Pilot Project—Characters**

Thanks for your work on this, Hailey. See my notes below. 

  * I think more of your characters need background trauma to be sympathetic, especially the women. Our audience needs to understand why they would choose such a demanding career—what's driving them to find the answers to these horrible crashes? What haunts them?
  * Just spitballing here: one of our goals at CBS is to cash in on the trend toward grittier, more realistic prestige tv. With that in mind, we should consider an arc where Hobson "breaks bad," so to speak. With his knowledge, he would be able to hijack or even sabotage a flight.
  * Which one of the cast is going to be our "homebody"—the one who stays in DC and provides our audience with an overview of the investigative process, ála Penelope Garcia in _Criminal Minds_? Assuming that's the blind woman, since she can't do a whole lot else, but it's not quite clear if that's her role from your description.
  * Please consider adding a character that Kristy Swanson can play, even if it's mid-season. I'm in contact with her agent and we have a tentative yes from her, if she feels the role is right for her career trajectory.
  * Finally, looking at the cast list and actor's photos, I have to say I'm concerned this cast won't resonate with the majority of CBS viewers. Other than Chandler, who in the cast represents traditional, mainstream America? Are there other actors from _Early Edition_ we can pull in? Please consider creating wholly new characters if need be.



Lester Sunpanse

President, CBS

**\- - - -**

**Character List**

_(Most recent revisions marked with *asterisks*.)_

Main Cast

**Name** : Gary Hobson (Kyle Chandler)

**Title** : Air Crash Investigator

**Description** : Highly intuitive, tends to overlook details unless they're pointed out to him. Jumps to conclusions, which are right often enough that he gets a pass from his superiors for the times they're not. This means he will shut out other possibilities, and he needs another investigator (usually Marissa) to pull him back and remind him to confirm his conclusions with data. When possible, he likes to literally put himself in the pilot seat of the downed planes he investigates; he relives what he knows of their doomed flights as closely as he can to find the answers he craves. Owns a cat, reluctantly.

_*A close relative (let's make it an older sister) died in a plane crash when he was young. The cause of the crash has never been explained to his satisfaction, and with every investigation he's looking for answers to the crash that matters most._ _*_

**Key Quote** : "If this job ever gets easy, it's time to start looking for a different career."

 - - - -

**Name** : Antonia ("Toni") Brigatti (Constance Marie) 

**Title** : Air Crash Investigator

**Description** : Practical to the point of brusqueness. She is by-the-book as long as she agrees with that book. Toni takes the broad view as an investigator and likes to see the crash site from overhead. She believes the big picture emerges when the details and data are solid, and relies on the rest of her team to get her the details and make sure their information is accurate. On site, she likes to gather as much information as she can; she processes it off site, and doesn't draw conclusions until she has a complete picture. Allergic to cats.

**Key Quote** : "If you want to find out why a plane crashed, you have to put together everything you can about how it flew and where it ended up."

_ _ _ _

**Name** : Marissa Clark (Shanesia Davis)

**Title** : Transportation Disaster Assistance Specialist; Air Crash Investigator in Training 

**Description** : Marissa is the emotional groundwire of the team. She has assisted, responded, and listened to survivors and victims' families for years as part of the TDA team. Marissa's abilities as a counselor help her as an investigator; she can figure out clues from witnesses' unspoken and emotional responses, whether or not they seem to be directly tied to the crash. * _She feels she's spent too much time in the office and on the phone, and would like a more active role in the investigations, so she's in training to become a field investigator.*_ She is fiercely committed to finding the causes of disasters and working to make sure changes are made to prevent them reoccurring. She talks Gary out of the dark when he gets too involved or overwhelmed, but he's there for her, too, when the emotional weight is too much.

**Key Quote** : "From tragedy, goodness comes."

_ _ _ _ 

**Name** : Zeke Crumb (Ron Dean)

**Title** : Chief Investigator

**Description** : Through a lifetime working with various iterations of the NTSB, Crumb has seen it all. He values the members of his team for their varying strengths and specializes in subtly manipulating them into working together for positive outcomes. Though he has a gruff exterior and professes to hate emotional displays, he has a soft spot for Gary and his unusual methods. * _Crumb was a military pilot who served in Vietnam. His experience developed both his sense of loyalty to his team and his distrust of civilian pilots. Certain specific crashes may trigger episodes of PTSD.*_

**Key Quote** : "Stop wallowing in your personal problems and do your damn job."

_ _ _ _

 

Recurring Cast

**Name** : Paul Armstrong (Michael Whaley)

**Title** :  Air Crash Investigator

**Description** : Assertive, driven, and smart, Paul Armstrong is another seasoned investigator who is occasionally assigned to work with our core team. He has been given the Investigator in Charge (IIC) role more often than Gary, and that has contributed to the sense of competition, tempered with somewhat grudging respect, between them. Armstrong can serve as both friend and foil to the main characters.

**Key Quote** : "Never give up until you find the truth."

 _ _ _ _

*** _Name_** _:_ _Miguel Diaz (Luis Antonio Ramos)_

**_Title_** _:_ _Air Crash Investigator, Flight Data Specialist_

**_Description_** _:_ _Miguel is the wizard who can extract data from an airplane's systems, air traffic control and radar recordings, and other technology. He spends more time at HQ than on site, but the teams rely on him to extract crucial information in their investigation. Miguel will serve as an interpretive voice for the audience, giving them overviews of the process and explaining the meaning of complicated or confusing concepts._

**_Key Quote_** _:_ _"The answers are there; you just have to decode them."_ *

_ _ _ _

**_* Name_** _:_ _Winslow (Matt Scharff) (note: this minor character was never assigned a first name in the original series; we can either come up with a name now, or make it something embarrassing that he tries not to let others know about, as a kind of running gag)_

**_Title_** _:_ _Air Crash Investigator in Training_

**_Description_** _:_ _Younger than the rest of the cast, Winslow is an "eager beaver" who started out in engineering school, then tried law enforcement, and has now decided to pursue a career in the NTSB. He comes from a privileged family and has several blind spots when it comes to interacting with the rest of the team. Winslow is a jokester and a gossip who often oversteps his bounds and may need to be taken down a notch or two in order to become an effective team member._

**_Key Quote_ ** _: "I heard TWA 800 was an inside job." *_

 

_\- - - -_

**NTSB: Air Crash Investigators**

**Season 1 Episodes**

**1.01**  
**Pilot/Co-pilot**  
Two-hour series premiere; we meet our series regulars, learn about the ACIs, and see the conflict when a new investigator disrupts Gary Hobson's worldview, career plans, and possibly his love life. Working in tandem, Gary and Toni and their teams discover two different small jet crashes in Illinois and Michigan may have a common cause.

**1.02**  
**Crash Course**  
Toni and Gary are both assigned to investigate a crash in which Paul Armstrong is the Investigator in Charge (IIC). Sparks fly as they continue to debate the best approach to their work.

**1.03**  
**Opposing Forces**  
The FBI steps in when it becomes apparent the crash in 1.02 was a result of sabotage. The NTSB team is not happy about the changed focus of the investigation. We learn more about Gary's tragic backstory, the real reason he is driven to this profession.

**1.04**  
**Flirting with Disaster**  
Gary and Toni agree to  <s> ~~a date </s>~~ coffee, but a new investigation interrupts their plans.

**1.05**  
**Blind Spot**  
Marissa-centric episode; we learn why she chose this profession and how her counseling specialty aids not only victims but the investigations.

**1.06**  
**Off the Radar**  
Gary gets into trouble with an unapproved investigation. Much to Gary's and his own surprise, Paul Armstrong agrees to assist him.

**1.07**  
**Under Pressure**  
Still under scrutiny after his rogue investigation, Gary is put on desk duty while Toni and Paul team up to find the cause of a small aircraft crash that kills the son of the ambassador to a small, oil-rich South American nation.

**1.08**  
**Unexpected Turbulence**  
The team is thrust into a quagmire when two government agencies with different agendas both try to influence their report on the crash in episode 1.07.

**1.09/1.10**  
**Mayday/Last Known Location**  
Sweeps month Double Episode. Gary and Toni are trapped on a snowy mountain in the Adirondacks when their own plane crashes on the way to investigate a missing plane in the Adirondacks. Caught in a blizzard, they struggle to survive in the ruins of their plane. The second episode focuses on the effort to find and rescue them, led by Crumb and Marissa.

**1.11**  
**Firestorm**  
When a lightning strike appears to cause a fire at a facility housing the wreckage layout of they planes 1.09/1.10, the team finds reason to believe a small airline is covering up dangerous practices.

**1.12**  
**Excess Baggage**  
In separate counseling sessions, Gary and Toni work through the emotional fallout of their crash so they can be cleared to return to work. Each admits having new feelings for the other, but not to each other.

**1.13**  
**Communication Breakdown**  
After a major carrier's airliner disappears, leaving no indication of the cause or of the whereabouts of the plane, the team must work together to find out what happened while struggling with their own communication difficulties.

**1.14**  
**Free Falling**  
Still working on the disappearance case, Gary and Toni acknowledge there's the potential for a romantic relationship between them and have to decide what to do about it.

**1.15**  
**Action / Reaction**  
Concern and curiosity are roused among the team when their co-workers, including Crumb, find out Toni and Gary are dating. The cause of the Crash of the Week is related to the plane's thrusters, providing Winslow with an endless supply of double entendres.

**1.16**  
**Grounded**  
(bottle episode) The personal lives of the rest of the team are explored when their field investigation is stalled by a hurricane that leaves them stranded in their hotel.

**1.17**  
**In Plane Sight**  
The team must sort through conflicting eyewitness reports (seen in flashbacks) of a small plane crash near Los Angeles to find the truth about the tragedy. Each witness's testimony will connect thematically to issues the investigators are experiencing.

**1.18**  
**Hijacked**  
When Gary's commuter flight to the site of a crash is hijacked by a group of disgruntled airline workers, he must work to overcome the hijackers and land the plane safely with help from his team on the ground.

**1.19**  
**Crash into Me**  
In the middle of a case, Gary and Toni finally have sex. Hijinks ensue.

**1.20/1.21**  
**Total Systems Failure**  
(Season finale/cliffhanger) Relations among the team break down over the handling of a major crash and interference from other government agencies; Gary considers leaving the NTSB over the turbulence among the team and especially between him and Toni.

~~Final Transmission~~ _(Let's not jinx a second season renewal. We'll keep this in our back pocket for a series finale. ~H.A.)_

 


	4. Pilot

NTSB: AIR CRASH INVESTIGATORS

Pilot

 written by 

Hailey Alderman

 

COLD OPEN

FADE IN:

 

1          EXT.    DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER REGIONAL AIRPORT, WICHITA, KANSAS – DAY

We see typical activity, small jets being loaded and taxiing on the runway.

 

**MARISSA (VO)**  

Change is exciting, especially when we're young.

 

CUT TO:

 2          INT.     DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER REGIONAL AIRPORT

A YOUNG WOMAN (JESSICA O'GRADY) hugs her parents good-bye, taking a small package from her mother when she leaves. We follow her through TSA screening and see her waiting to board her flight to Chicago. Her body language betrays nervous excitement as she opens the package, smiles and puts on the charm bracelet inside, buys coffee, sends texts on her phone, and checks her boarding pass several times.

 

**MARISSA (VO)**

Change pushes us forward as we face new challenges and build new relationships. When we know change is coming, we anticipate it. We do everything we can to prepare for it, because we know it will make our lives better.

CUT TO: 

3          INT.     BOEING CRJ200 COMMUTER JET

Jessica squeezes into her seat, then gets out again, smiling, to let an OLDER WOMAN, a grandmotherly type, sit in the window seat. Jessica stows the woman's bag in the overhead compartment, sits again, sends one last text with a private smile and shuts off her phone. She leans back in her seat and pulls out a newspaper—we see it's Chicago apartment listings--and makes a reassuring gesture toward the Older Woman as the plane taxis and takes off.

 

**MARISSA (VO)**

But no matter how much we plan and anticipate, it's the changes we aren't prepared for, that we never would have imagined...

CUT TO:

LATER

Jessica has fallen asleep, a course catalog for the Art Institute of Chicago marked and open on her lap. The Older Woman nudges her as the plane begins to shake and roll to one side. Jessica starts awake, grabs the woman's arm as lights in the cabin flash. The course catalog slides to the floor. We see the dawning terror on Jessica's face as she realizes something has gone horribly wrong.

 

**FLIGHT ATTENDANT**

Brace! Brace! Brace! 

**MARISSA (VO)**

…that have the biggest impact on our lives. 

CUT TO:

4          EXT.    A FIELD OUTSIDE BELVEDERE, ILLINOIS - LATE AFTERNOON

We see an overhead shot of the wreckage of the plane. The nose is crumpled; a huge gash cuts the fuselage in half; one wing has broken off. The ground around the crash is scarred and smoking. Emergency vehicles close in on the site from all directions, lights flashing.

ZOOM IN

A series of quick cuts shows us survivors staggering from the wreckage, those who can walk helping each other move away from the smoking ruin of the plane; an open suitcase surrounded by its contents; an arm or a foot connected to someone trapped under debris; Jessica's course catalog, apartment listings, and highlighter; and finally, Jessica herself, face down on a scarred patch of ground, moving slightly so we know she's alive, but not what condition she's in.

CUT TO:

MAIN TITLE -

An airplane crosses the screen on a downward trajectory; behind it, we see flash cuts of radar screens, taped-off crash scenes, and faceless agents in NTSB gear. The NTSB logo grows to fill the screen and become the TITLE:

 

NTSB: AIR CRASH INVESTIGATORS

FADE OUT

  

ACT ONE

FADE IN:

5          EXT.    ESTABLISHING SHOT - NTSB HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, DC

6          INT.     AIR CRASH INVESTIGATORS OFFICES, BULLPEN

MARISSA CLARK sits at her desk. The desktop contains a computer and adaptive technology (wireless headphones and a Braille display), Braille printouts, and the butt of GARY HOBSON, who is perched on the edge of her desk, holding a labeled binder, "AAR1803 LOSS OF CONTROL AT TAKEOFF MARQUEE AIRLINES CARGO MA1426."

**GARY**

I'm serious, Marissa, this is the most coherent write-up we've had in months. They'll be quoting this in training sessions for the next decade. 

**MARISSA**

It'll be weird to hear my own words read back to me by the instructor. 

**GARY**

Not for much longer. They're going to bump you up to full investigator any day now, especially if I have anything to say about it. 

**MARISSA**

I wish. I'm never going to get the on site experience I need for certification if they keep giving me the desk assignments every time an investigation comes up. Why doesn't anyone believe I can do the work?

**GARY**

They're wrong, okay? You're great at your job now, and you're already a great investigator. The training just makes it official.

**MARISSA**

It's so frustrating. I have to do everything twice as well as anyone else to get them to believe I can do half as much as I'm capable of doing.

**GARY**

(sends a scowl out to the bullpen)

Believe me, the minute Crumb makes me lead, you're on my site team.

**MARISSA**

(wry)

You foresee that happening any time soon?

**GARY**

(taps the report)

Matter of fact, yeah. He promised me the next one, thanks to my work on this case. Our work. So really, you're paving your own road by helping me out.

(Both their phones go off, an identical, urgent ringtone, slightly out of synch.)

**GARY**

This could be it.

(BEAT, as Gary reads a text message and Marissa listens to one.)

There you go. Conference room in five, wheels up to Chicago in ninety. Ask and ye shall receive.

**MARISSA**

(distressed)

Tell me you did not just wish a jet out of the air. It's a passenger plane, Gary! 

**GARY**

No, God, you know I wouldn't. (Waits for her nod.) It's just coincidence. I'm sorry. 

**MARISSA**

You know I hate 'sorry', and— 

**GARY**

\--and you don't believe in coincidences, because everything happens for a reason. I know. Let's find out what's going on.

(As they stand, she snaps her fingers and her guide dog, REILLY, scoots out from under her desk and stands at attention at her side. She picks up the harness.) 

**GARY**

I'm going to drop this off at the Chief's office.

(pats her on the back as they head off in different directions.)

Hope you have a go bag packed, because you're coming with me this time. You too, Reilly! 

CUT TO:

7          INT. CONFERENCE ROOM, NTSB HEADQUARTERS   - A FEW MINUTES LATER

Marissa is seated at the conference table, with Reilly on the floor next to her chair. Also at the table are Tech Specialist MIGUEL DIAZ, Investigator in Training WINSLOW, Investigators MCCARTHY and DOW, and Investigator TONI BRIGATTI. Their attention is focused on CHIEF INVESTIGATOR ZEKE CRUMB, who stands at the head of the table, a photograph of the crash site in Belvedere, Illinois projected behind him. 

**CRUMB**

This seems like the best time to introduce our newest investigator, who'll be--

(Gary pushes through the door, oblivious to the rest of the room.)

**GARY**

You starting without me, Chief? Must be a big one.

(He moves toward the front of the room.)

**MARISSA**

(under her breath)

Gary—

**CRUMB**

(points to the chair next to Marissa)

Have a seat, Hobson.

(Befuddled, Gary sits down.)

**GARY**

(under his breath, to Marissa)

Don't tell me they're giving it to Armstrong again. 

**MARISSA**

Shh, just listen. 

**CRUMB**

Good advice, Clark. As I was saying, Toni Brigatti comes to us from the regional office in Seattle. Brigatti, your record speaks for itself, and we're all glad you came on board in time to help with this one. 

**GARY**

(Gestures at the two unfamiliar male agents across the table, as if Marissa can see them. Still whispering.)

Which one's Tony? Never heard of him before.

(Toni, who's heard him, throws a loaded glance his way; he doesn't notice until she stands and walks to the front of the room.)

**TONI**

Thank you, Chief Crumb. Glad I could be here to help. 

**MARISSA**

(Under her breath to Gary, with a slightly troubled smirk )

That one.

**GARY**

But she's—

**MARISSA**

(Knows what he was about to say)

Don't. 

**GARY**

New.

(Marissa makes a face. That's not what he was about to say.)

**TONI**

(irritated)

You two can gossip after class.

(turning serious)

A little over an hour ago, Liberty Airlines Flight 1611 from Wichita to Chicago went down in a field outside of Belvedere, Illinois. The plane was a Bombardier CRJ200, carrying thirty-seven passengers, one attendant, and two flight crew. The co-pilot reported smoke in the cockpit a few minutes before the crash as the pilot tried to land the plane on the highway adjacent to the field. Right now we don't have numbers on fatalities, but there are reports of survivors. We'll know more once we get there.

**GARY**

(to Crumb; his growing irritation with the situation is clear)

"We"? Why isn't Midwest Regional handling this?

Crumb clears his throat and nods at Toni. 

**TONI**

(equally irritated)

They're overwhelmed right now with a couple small craft crashes in the Rockies and the Amtrak derailment in North Dakota. We can reach the Chicago area faster than they can. 

(As she goes over assignments, she pauses after each name to identify the agents. They raise their hands, nod, or otherwise identify themselves.)

Hobson, McCarthy, and Winslow, you're with me on the ground in Illinois. Diaz and Dow will stay in DC to receive and analyze data. Clark, you'll be here conducting phone interviews with the crews' families.

(Marissa's shoulders drop a little at that. Gary notices.)

Any questions? Okay, let's get going.

(Everyone but Crumb, Toni, and Gary file out of the room. Gary blocks Toni's way out.)

**GARY**

(no preamble)

There are survivors, right? That's what you said.

**TONI**

That is what I said.

**GARY**

I want Marissa—Investigator Clark--with us on the ground.

**TONI**

Okay, two things. One, she's an investigator in training.

**GARY**

She's been a TDA Specialist for seven years. 

**TONI**

(over him)

And two, this isn't your call.

**GARY**

I'm telling you, she's good, she's the best. She's been on my team before. And you're new, so—

**TONI**

So?

**GARY**

So I'm telling you, you want Marissa Clark on the ground with you.

**TONI**

(She's heard about these two.)

You just want her to write up your reports.

**GARY**

I want her because she's good with people. And it seems like maybe that's not your strong suit. (Off her look.) Hey, it isn't mine, either. She will get ten times the information out of the survivors that either of us would.

**TONI**

Look, I've already got one trainee in Winslow—

**GARY**

Who doesn't have a tenth of the experience she does.

(Toni looks to Crumb, who's watched this all go down. He shrugs.)

**CRUMB**

She is good, he's not wrong about that.

**GARY**

Brigatti, I'm telling you, you want her on the ground.

(tries his puppy dog eyes)

Trust me.

**TONI**

(looks him up and down)

Why the hell should I trust you?

**GARY**

Because I've been on these investigations before, I know these people, and because I should—

(He breaks off at Crumb's cough, warning him he's about to go too far.)

**GARY**

I want the best possible outcome for this team. And if you want that too, you want Marissa Clark on site. Plus she's great at the party system—she already knows half the mechanics and airline reps you're going to want on the team. Having her there will save you a couple hours in phone calls.

**TONI**

(Glances at the clock, then at Crumb, trying to read the room.)

I'm going to regret this, aren't I? (another shrug from Crumb) Okay, fine, she's on the go team, as long as she's ready for wheels up in fifteen.

(Toni leaves; Gary turns to Crumb.)

**GARY**

You told me I'd be the Investigator in Charge on the next crash. What the hell happened? Why her?

**CRUMB**

She's led a lot of important investigations out of the Western Pacific Region. Give her a chance, you'll see.

**GARY**

See what? That you passed me over again?

**CRUMB**

That she's here for a reason, Hobson. You might even learn something. Give her a shot. 

**GARY**

Yeah, I'd like to shoot--

**CRUMB**

Can it, Hobson. Go do your job. She will leave without you, especially after the stunt you just pulled. You better get on that plane ready to apologize to the both of them.

**GARY**

What are you talking about?

**CRUMB**

You used your best friend to get under Brigatti's skin. 

**GARY**

I did not—(realizes he did). Oh, boy.

**CRUMB**

(a little peeved, a little amused)

You sure put your foot in it this time, Hobson. You want to know the real reason I didn't make you lead?

(waggles his finger in the direction Toni went)

I need you to learn a few more lessons first.

(Crumb walks off.)

**GARY**

(to his back)

What the hell is that supposed to mean?


	5. Debris Field

**Possible Episode Titles: NTSB: ACI**

_Titles in use are crossed out_

~~Pilot~~

~~Co-pilot~~

Autopilot

Pilot Error

~~Flirting with Disaster~~

Crash and Burn

Black Box

~~Crash into Me~~

~~Off the Radar~~

Mayday

Losing Altitude

Fear of Flying

Sideswiped

Radio Silence

~~In Plane Sight~~

~~Hijacked~~

~~Crash Course~~

~~Firestorm~~

~~Communication Breakdown~~

Loss of Control

De-icing

Flying Blind

Running on Empty

Collision Course

Head-on Collision

Escape Hatch

Defective Parts

~~Total Systems Failure~~

Breakup / Breakdown

False Alarm

Systemic Breakdown

Closed Cockpit

Icarus

~~Blind Spot~~

~~Under Pressure~~

Fire in the Hold

Wind Shear

Engine Failure

Stuck in the Climb

Stalled

Vanished

Low Visibility

Final Transmission

~~Last Known Location~~

Survivor's Guilt

Fatal Flaw

Throttled

What Goes Up

~~Action / Reaction~~

Momentum

Maximum Velocity

Inertia

Final Approach

Turbulence

Blowout

~~Free Falling~~

Rough Weather

Design Flaw

Running Out of Time

Rollover

Firestorm

Imperfect Pitch

~~Cleared for Landing~~

Testing the Limits

Fatal Delay

Take Off

~~Mayday~~

Safety Regulations

Water Landing

Safety Briefing

Braced for Landing

In the Event of an Emergency

~~Unexpected Turbulence~~

~~Opposing Forces~~

Unstoppable Forces

~~Communication Breakdown~~

~~Grounded~~

* * * * * * * * * * *

**To: Carolyn Hester, Music Supervisor**

**From: Hailey Alderman**

Hi Caro,

We're working on the season-long plan for _NTSB: Air Crash Investigators_ , a show about, well…I think you get the drift. Here's a starting list of songs we'd like to use. It's long because I know we can't get all of them, and I know some are going to be out of budget, but it's a starting point, right?

I've starred the ones we'd like for the pilot. Let me know your thoughts and we'll go forward from there.

Thanks,

Hailey

"Crash Into Me," Dave Matthews Band*

( _What are the chances of getting some version of this for our title credits? Stop laughing! --H)_

"Learning to Fly," Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

"Collide," Howie Day

"Leaving on a Jet Plane," John Denver/Peter, Paul, and Mary

"Aeroplane," Red Hot Chili Peppers

"Counting Airplanes," Train

"Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here)," Fallout Boy

"From a Window Seat," Dawes 

* * * * * * * * * * *

**To: Hailey Alderman, EP**

**From: Ashley LeFevour, Executive Vice President of Programming**

**Re: NTSB: ACI**

**Date: January 11, 2017**

Hey Hailey,

I'm so sorry, but _NTSB: ACI_ isn't on the list of pilots that are going to upfronts in May. Mr. Sunpanse has decided not to even go through with the filming. We love the concept and the work you've put into it, especially given some of the notes you've received, is extraordinary, but we ran into objections from potential sponsors. Several airlines are buying significant airtime on the network next season, and even though we tried to convince them we'd show the airlines cooperating in the investigations and putting the needs of their travellers above corporate gain, they weren't happy at all about us showing wreckage and victims every week. I will try taking it to Showtime, but they have a waiting list for original programming right now, so I wouldn't get your hopes too high.

I want to emphasize that we aren't finding fault with your creative work at all. We'd love to find another project for you to showrun with us, especially if we can work out a project to reunite this team of actors. This is solely a matter of sponsorship, and we'd need a hefty budget to produce the kinds of locations and footage this show would require.

Again, I'm so sorry. Let's meet next week and talk about future projects.

Ashley

\- - - -

**To: Ashley LeFevour**

**From: Hailey Alderman**

Ashley,

So you're saying it's not gonna fly?

Sorry, gallows humor.

I won't lie, I'm disappointed, but that's how this business goes. I'd love to meet next week, as long as you're buying the coffee.

Hailey 

* * * * * * * * * *

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: highlyanonymous@fmail.com**

**Date: January 20, 2017, 2:08 AM**

**Subject: Damn!!**

Hi all—

Me again, but this time I come bearing bad news. The CBS show with Kyle and Constance isn't going to fly. (Pun intended; you'll see why in a second. And I'm sorry. No one involved with the project has been able to resist, even though we're all crushed it's not going to happen.) The brass is still dangling the possibility of another show, or a stint on Showtime, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. The writers have all dispersed to other projects and the showrunner is already coming up with new pitches for next season.

To ease the sting, I've rescued a few docs from the writers' room digital wastebasket that I thought you might want to see. In many ways, the premise was a natural fit for CBS, but there were sponsor objections. You'll probably be able to figure out what they were. Please don't post these elsewhere; I know it's hard to resist but everyone still on this list is fairly old school, right? You understand the need for discretion. If you all can limit this to the list, I promise I'll be right back to let you know *when* there are future EE-related developments

H.A.

**Attached Files:**

*ACI pitch

*ACI pilot act 1

*ACI episodes

\- - - -

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **SaraBrush@coldmail.com** ](mailto:SaraBrush@coldmail.com)

**Date: January 20, 2017, 8:45 AM**

**Subject: Re: Damn!!**

Noooooooooooooooooo!

\- - - -

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **CatPage@fmail.com** ](mailto:CatPage@fmail.com)

**Date: January 20, 2017, 12:16 PM**

**Subject: Re: Damn!!**

Oh, H.A. I guess it really was too much to hope for. Thanks for letting us know, and for the goodies. I haven't had the heart to look at them yet, but I'm sure they'll give us plenty to hash over in the coming weeks.

Catonna Paper

\- - - -

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: LAbrams@fmail.com**

**Date: January 21, 2017, 4:56 PM**

**Subject: Re: Damn!!**

I *have* looked at the stuff (thanks, HA, it's amazing of you to do this!) and…*sigh*. I don't know what's worse; the disappointment that we won't see those stupid faces together on the screen again, or the fact that they were going to make such a mundane procedural with these characters. EE was all about the magic, wasn't it?

Still, I would have loved to see the moment when Toni realized the annoying guy who's nonetheless getting under her skin has a cat.

Lizzie

_ _ _ _

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **SaraBrush@coldmail.com** ](mailto:SaraBrush@coldmail.com)

**Date: January 21, 2017, 6:12 PM**

**Subject: Re: Damn!!**

>Still, I would have loved to see the moment when Toni realized the annoying guy who's nonetheless getting under her skin has a cat.

Not to mention an ep where Marissa becomes a full-fledged investigator before Winslow does!

Sara

\- - - -

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **CatPage@fmail.com** ](mailto:CatPage@fmail.com)

**Date: January 22, 2017, 7:42 PM**

**Subject: Re: Damn!!**

>>Still, I would have loved to see the moment when Toni realized the annoying guy who's nonetheless getting under her skin has a cat.

>Not to mention an ep where Marissa becomes a full-fledged investigator before Winslow does!

Who are we kidding? Look at the tropes on that list of episodes. We all would have been salivating for that first kiss, that first date, that first *time*! *wails*

Cat

\- - - -

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From:** [ **SaraBrush@coldmail.com** ](mailto:SaraBrush@coldmail.com)

**Date: January 23, 2017, 9:51 AM**

**Subject: Re: Damn!!**

>that first *time*…

H.A., if you're still here, PLEASE tell me that ep would have been renamed "The Mile High Club."

\- - - -

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: LAbrams@fmail.com**

**Date: January 23, 2017, 10:13 PM**

**Subject: Re: Damn!!**

>>>Still, I would have loved to see the moment when Toni realized the annoying guy who's nonetheless getting under her skin has a cat.

>>Not to mention an ep where Marissa becomes a full-fledged investigator before Winslow does!

>Who are we kidding? Look at the tropes on that list of episodes. We all would have been salivating for that first kiss, that first date, that first *time*! *wails*

I have an idea.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Co-Pilot

**To: Early Edition Fans** [ **ee-fans@lists.squirve.com** ](mailto:ee-fans@lists.squidge.com)

**From: LAbrams@fmail.com**

**Date: January 29, 2017, 8:30 AM**

**Subject: New Fic**

Hi gang! This is how I deal with heartbreak.

****Co-Pilot** **

by Dizzie Lizzie

_Author's Note: Many, many thanks to Highly Anonymous for the materials that inspired this, to everyone on this list for keeping the light burning for our show over all these years, and of course to Cat, BFF and beta extraordinaire._

_I chose to start writing where the "Pilot" script left off. This means I can't post the fic anywhere other than this list, but I'm okay with that. It's my way of processing all the hope and grief we've been through over the past few weeks. Plus, what we got to see of this AU version of_ Early Edition _was actually inspiring, even if it didn't seem like the best idea for a revival. Plot bunnies, what are you gonna do?? (Turns out the answer is: watch a lot of stuff on YouTube about plane crashes and do some internet research about how NTSB operates.)_

_Having said that, the technical details got a little *handwavy* so please forgive any egregious errors. (I figure if this show had ever made it to air, there would be plenty of people nitpicking the shortcuts the writers would inevitably take, so I'm just following in that honored TV tradition of "whatever fits the story"!)_

 

Co-Pilot

by Dizzie Lizzie

Please do not distribute this story without permission!

~*~*~*~

Gary was the last to board the small, custom designed plane that would take them to the crash site, earning him a dire glare from Brigatti and a pleading, mock-puppy face from Winslow, who was, as usual, hungry for gossip. The guy ran on it the way jets ran on fuel. Ignoring them both, he made his way back to the bench where Marissa sat, with her guide dog Reilly secure in a kennel next to her.

"We good?" the pilot called from the cockpit.

"Good to go!" Brigatti called out, and the engines fired up.

"Ready for this?" Gary asked Marissa as they taxied down the runway.

"Of course." Her reply was terse, and he knew he'd blown it by going to bat for her, even though his intentions had been good. How had she figured it out, though? He'd waited until she was gone to say anything to Brigatti about bringing her along. "That's part of the job, to be ready. That's what you're always telling me."

"Marissa." He dropped his voice under the thrum of the engines as they climbed higher and higher, the buildings of Washington dwindling below them. "I'm not looking for a thank-you here, but it was pretty obvious that you wanted to go."

"I did."

"So why aren't you happier about it?"

She half-turned toward him, lowering her own voice. "For one thing, a plane crashed. The people I'm going to talk to are wounded and traumatized. For another, apparently my best friend doesn't think I'm capable of standing up for myself."

"I was trying to make her understand how important you are to this team."

"It's _my_ job to make her understand," she said, unleashing her full exasperation. "And when I did that, when I caught her in the hallway to talk to her and ask if she thought I should go along so the team included someone experienced in live interviews, she'd already been bullied into taking me by you and Crumb. I looked like a fool, Gary."

Gary winced, but he took a few minutes to let that settle in, so she'd know he was taking her seriously. "I'm sure you didn't look like a fool."

"I felt like one."

"If it helps, Crumb didn't do any pushing on your behalf. He chewed me out afterward, in fact."

She made a little "humpf "noise. "Are we clear to use the Wi-Fi now?"

Gary checked the monitor at the front of the cabin. "Green light." Marissa opened her laptop and took out her headphones. Before she could put them on and shut him out, he said, still under his breath, "It's just, she's kind of irritating, you know?"\

"I didn't notice that, particularly. She seems very focused. And from what Crumb said before you came in, she has just as much investigative experience as you do," she added pointedly.

"But at a regional office, not national." Gary kept an eye on Brigatti, sitting alone in a front seat, reading printouts with a twist to her mouth. As he watched, she tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Something in his chest gave a funny lurch, but that was probably because they'd hit a random spot of turbulence.

"Which means she's been on the ground for a lot of different investigations." Marissa tapped a finger on the edge of her keyboard. "I'm looking forward to working with her and learning from her."

Gary's snort must not have been as circumspect as he'd thought, because Brigatti looked up from her printouts, a small frown creasing her forehead as she stared at him. He pulled out a folder from his backpack and leaned back on the seat, sticking his legs out into the aisle. No one but Marissa could prove he'd been talking about her, and Marissa would never betray him like that.

"You'll get your chance to take lead," Marissa said quietly, seemingly oblivious to what was going on between Gary and Brigatti. "But in the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you didn't sabotage my reputation with the other investigators."

"That's not what I was doing," he said out of the side of his mouth.

"Maybe not on purpose. But by asking her to bring me on in front of Crumb, you were projecting your own disappointment at not being the IIC onto me."

Gary shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his seat. "Stop showing off your psych degree."

"Degrees," she reminded him. "Don't you have initial reports to review?"

"Well, yeah, but--"

"Then can you leave me alone to do the job you just campaigned for me to do? I need to call in the manufacturer's reps who'll be joining our team. Not to mention figure out what I'm going to say to the survivors." The last line was said more to herself than him, and before Gary could take the conversation any further, Marissa had her headphones on and was absorbed in looking up Doring's reps in the Chicago area. Thanks to what NTSB called the Party System, manufacturer's reps and engineering and flight specialists would be asked to join the team of investigators in the search for the cause of the crash.

Gary opened his folder, reading a few lines of the initial report before he snuck a look at the front of the plane. Winslow and McCarthy were comparing notes, while Brigatti traced a diagram of the CLJ500's cross-section with a finger, mouthing something to herself as she tapped a certain spot and compared it to a printout she held in her other hand. She looked up, too late for him to look away. There was a moment where his breath caught--her eyes were huge and dark, asking the question that would absorb them all over the next few days: what had happened to Liberty 1611?

Or at least that's what he thought she was asking. If it was anything else, anything more, it was lost when she blinked, then rolled her eyes at him. He turned his attention back to the report, but he had to read the transcript of the first 911 call three times before a word of it registered.

~*~*~*~

After a flyover of the crash site so they could get pictures and film footage from above, they landed at a small regional airport, where a shuttle van commandeered from a hotel met them on the tarmac. It was a ten-minute drive to the field where Liberty 1611 had gone down. No more than four hours had passed since the crash, but those were four hours of daylight gone by, and Gary couldn't help but feel—as did everyone else in the van—that every minute they weren't there, they'd lost information. Now the sun was lowering, sending rays directly into his eyes as he got out of the van. He reached back to help Marissa down without taking his eyes off the scene.

A stretch of the county highway was cordoned off by police tape and sheriff's vehicles, with enough flashing lights to send an epileptic into seizures. The ambulances had been gone for an hour at least, the breathless deputy who met them said. He'd lost count of survivors but thought there had been "at least two dozen, maybe three." A farmer--or at least, a guy in a seed cap and dusty jeans--stood next to a sheriff's car talking to a deputy taking furious notes. Reporters were there, too, held back somewhat by either the sheriff's orders or, less probably, by good sense. Television trucks from Chicago and a whole alphabet soup of stations were turning on their lights as afternoon waned.

At the center of all that attention was what was left of the Doring CLJ 500 and its contents. It looked as if it had come down nose first and then skidded and partially rolled, tearing part of the left wing off in the process. The field was blackened with skid marks and burns. Seats had been flung from the rip in fuselage by the force of the crash, and suitcases and other personal belongings lay strewn across the field in a pattern that told the story of the plane's final trajectory. The field was dotted with numbered markers where survivors and victims had been found.

Gary shut his eyes for a half second, imagining the bodies, some moving, some not. One, he thought, might have had brown hair pulled back in a tight French braid, a new red coat, a worn pair of Doc Martens…

He shook his head and banished the image, forcing his attention back to his team.

The NTSB investigators stood in a tight knot, all of them taking in the scene in the brief moment they had before they needed to get to work. The deep breath before the dive, Gary thought. Marissa's fingers tightened around his arm. He'd describe it to her soon, but for right now she gave him space for that breath.

"Okay, everyone, let's get started." Brigatti's sharpness seemed subdued; being at the site was clearly affecting her. Maybe she wasn't made entirely of marble. "You all know your assignments." But then she listed them anyway: "Clark, talk to the witnesses and first responders before their stories get stale. Winslow and McCarthy, I need photos and video of everything, both close-ups and context. Hobson, I need an overall picture from you—I want a coherent narrative of what went down in the flight's last few minutes ASAP. I'll talk to whoever put himself in charge here and let them know we're taking over the scene, provided all the passengers and crew are—" She paused and swallowed. "—accounted for."

Winslow held up his camera as he and McCarthy crossed the barricades, getting a video overview of the scene. Brigatti squared her shoulders, seeming to grow a few inches taller as she strode over to meet the LEOs—Belvedere Police and Fire, Boone County Sheriffs, and Illinois State Troopers, going by their jackets.

Gary gave Marissa a brief description of the scene. "You ready to talk to these guys?"

"Lead the way." They started over to the witness and the deputy, but Reilly pulled Marissa up short.

"What's the matter?" Gary asked as she bent over her dog.

"New smells." She wrinkled her nose. "Burnt fuel. He doesn't like it. Plus, new people, new territory, and he had to be kenneled for the flight. It's okay, boy. We're working, you know how this goes." Reilly gave a little whine in response, but Marissa patted his back and straightened up. "Let's go."

Camera still rolling, Winslow fell into step beside Gary. "Look, man, you gotta tell me—I mean, I think it's great and all, but what's a blind woman doing at a crash site?"

Gary opened his mouth to shut him down, but in the same moment he saw Marissa's shoulders stiffen. She'd heard. "What I do best," she said over her shoulder, and headed in a direct line to the witness.

"Just asking," Winslow mumbled.

Ignoring him, Gary hurried to catch up with Marissa and make sure she made it to the witness, but she had already introduced herself and had her recorder out. He turned back to the crash site, where Brigatti had Winslow—well, not cornered, because there was no corner, no wall, not even a sapling tree standing in the wide soybean field, but certainly cowed.

"Don't you ever question any member of my team unless you want to be questioned yourself," she was saying as Gary passed by, as close as he dared. "Now get out there and get me that footage before we lose the light."

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

Gary approached the bulk of the wreckage from the plane's right side, trying to put together the whole he'd seen from above with the more detailed evidence on the ground. As he paced the field, he was acutely aware of each marker, nodding at the woman in a State Trooper jacket who was, like Winslow, photographing the site; if protocol held, she would have taken pictures of the victims and survivors while they were still there. It was a gruesome, invasive task, but the information could be useful in mapping out the events after the impact.

Of course, the biggest piece of the puzzle was the aircraft itself. It had once been a graceful, birdlike structure--he knew most people hated flying regional jets, but since he usually didn't have to squeeze himself into one, he was more appreciative of their overall shape--but this bird's wing was broken, its beak folded in on itself like an accordion. Gary took out his tablet and started recording his impressions with video and his own commentary.

As he rounded the front and the left side of the plane came into view, he saw the gash that had ripped open when the wing came off. The wing lay a hundred feet or so behind the fuselage.

"This is where a lot of people ended up." Gary looked away from the fuselage to see the trooper again, her flaming red hair practically glowing as the sun set behind her. She gestured at the ground, and Gary realized he was standing among a dozen numbered markers, maybe more. "They jumped out that hole in the side and then collapsed, from what I can tell," the trooper told him. "The ones who made it onto the ambulances, they said there wasn't much warning."

"Did the pilots survive?"

She shook her head.

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"Thanks." She nodded and wandered away, still taking photos, as if doing so could bring everyone back.

Gary approached the plane. He put a hand on the fuselage close to the nose, tilted toward the ground to the point where he could touch a window. He shut his eyes and tried to hear it, to feel it: the whine of the air rushing past, the crew's commanding calls to brace for impact, the panic the pilots must have fought to control within themselves while they tried to control the plane. He'd talked to surviving pilots, listened to recordings of the last moments of those who didn't. He'd hear these pilots' voices in the coming days, but for now, all he had was what he could build from the clues they'd left behind.

"Hobson?" Brigatti's voice, clear and sharp, cut through the imagined crash and brought him back to the aftermath. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I uh--" Gary blinked down at her, then at himself. He had one foot wedged into one of the folds in the nose cone, trying to pull himself up, and part of a window frame had come off in his hand. "I'm trying to see what the interior looks like."

"Not until we've documented the outside." Brigatti had both hands on her hips. While the setting sun had illuminated the trooper, she was thrown into shadowy darkness instead. "You're destroying my evidence!"

"I'm looking for more evidence!" He hopped down, and they ended up nose-to-nose. Or rather, they would have, if she hadn't been almost a head shorter than him. Still, she bore into him with those dark, gorgeous eyes, all fiery and--

\--and why the hell was he noticing her eyes? "This is my specialty," he snapped, as irritated with himself for slipping into a trance as he was with her for calling him on it. "Seeing the picture from the inside, knowing how the pilots operated."

"How can you? They're dead, and we haven't heard the recordings yet. We haven't even found the cockpit voice recorder!"

"I need to get in here before it gets dark."

"You're not going in until the post-crash condition is fully documented and the site is lit. No more buts," she snapped when he opened his mouth to say just that. "Go find me the CVR and the FDR." She stalked off, calling the sheriff over to ask him about lighting. He heard her say something about getting the television trucks closer if they didn't have any other sources. "Commandeer them," she told McCarthy.

Gary resumed his walk around, grumbling under his breath. It wasn't that her way was wrong, but did she have to be so pushy about? He traced a trail of seat cushions and suitcases from the gash in the fuselage to the outer reaches of the field, where Winslow was photographing them and entering their locations on a grid map on his tablet.

"Looks like they hit nose first, skidded, maybe the wing clipped a tree in the windbreak over there." He pointed to the southwest. A narrow grove of pine trees delineated the property line.

"Yeah, but that was when they hit. And after. We need to figure out why they went down in the first place."

Gary circled around the back of the plane and met up with Marissa, who had finished talking to the witness and was getting reports about the initial responses from the local LEOs.

"Did anybody talk to the pilots?" Gary asked, cutting off one trooper's rundown of when each branch had arrived on scene.

One of the sheriffs shook his head. "They didn't survive impact."

"Smoke in the cockpit, that's what they reported?" There were nods all around—all except Marissa, who was looking irritated again. He'd figure out what to do about that later. "We need to find out if it was confined there, or if it got into the cabin, too. Did either of the flight attendants make it?"

"I know I saw one put on an ambulance."

"Good, good. We'll head to the hospital next."

Marissa cleared her throat. "Sergeant Kettner, you were saying the Belvedere fire trucks were first on scene?"

Gary backed off, still trying to figure out the best way to get at the cause of the crash. Until they knew that, the rest of the details were…well, they were just details. A handful of television trucks were being waved closer to the fuselage by officers, while Brigatti ran around protecting the markers and insisting nobody move any of the debris.

He took what he figured was a reasonable chance, darting around the back of the plane and into the gash. It was nearly dark outside now, but he didn't want to risk using the flashlight on his phone and having Brigatti see him. He pulled himself into the plane, into a freeze-frame of chaos.

Scattered seats, torn from their bolts; dangling seatbelts; open suitcases and briefcases and backpacks; soda cans and boxes of snacks from the galley: all of it posed a formidable barrier to the cockpit. He'd moved a couple rows worth of debris before he realized what he was doing, stopped, and rethought. Yes, he needed to get to the cockpit. And yes, most of this stuff had already been tossed around by the rescuers who'd removed the victims and survivors from the plane.

But maybe Brigatti was right, and he was doing more damage to the scene than he should.

He'd backed up a step when light flooded the portion of the cabin where he stood.

"Hobson!"

After a brief moment in which he hung his head, resigned to the chewing out he was about to get—possibly live on television—he made his way back to the opening and climbed down to the field. Brigatti grabbed his arm, surprisingly strong for her size, and pulled him back behind the tail section.

"Again I ask, what the hell are you doing?"

He knew better than to match her frustration with his own, but something about her barely contained fury flipped a switch in him, and frustration overcame common sense. "I'm trying to figure out why this plane went down, just like you!"

"That's not what it looks like."

"Oh yeah, well, what's it look like to you?"

"It looks like you're undermining my authority. It looks like you think you know better than I do how to handle this site! Do you think I can't do this?"

He hesitated, just a second, before he said, "You have the chief's respect, so you have mine." She registered the hesitation with a twist of her mouth; in that instant, he felt like a heel. "I'm serious, okay? We—we—" He gulped. Something about saying "we" and meaning that woman and himself, together, knotted his tongue for a second. "We just need to figure out how to work together."

"We already know that, or haven't you read the manuals?"

"Well, yeah, but out in the field, by the book doesn't always work."

"It always has for me."

"But the book's always being re-written, isn't it?"

"You think it's up to you to do it? Right now? On my investigation?"

"It is your first investigation as lead, isn't it?"

"Actually, no."

"Look, some Cessna going down in Podunk, Montana isn't the same as—"

"Enough." She cut him off, knifing her hand through the air so close to his face she almost clipped his chin. "Whether you like it or not, I am IIC here and I am going to do things my way. If I catch you disobeying my orders again, I'll put you on the next bus back to DC." She stomped back toward the trucks, calling the last bit over her shoulder. "And I'll make sure it's a slow one."

~*~*~*~

After a dozen interviews with the survivors who were able to speak with her, Marissa was ready to go to her hotel room—if they even had those yet—and process some of the distress and panic she'd been absorbing for the past hours. But there was one more, a nurse told her, a young woman who had a badly fractured leg, among other injuries, and would have surgery in the coming days. Meanwhile, she was awake and coherent enough to talk to her parents, who'd flown in from Kansas shortly after the crash.

Marissa left Reilly at the nurses' station outside the ICU after a bit of back-and-forth about the ADA and sanitary conditions. The truth was, most hospital rooms were easy to navigate because they were nearly identical, and this was one fight Marissa was just too tired to have. In exchange for her cooperation, the nurse on duty escorted Jessica's parents to the coffee bar in the waiting room, leaving Marissa to talk to her alone.

Jessica O'Grady's room was directly across from the nurse's station; it smelled just as antiseptic as the rest of the building, and the monitor beeps echoed off the walls and ceiling. Marissa made her way to the bedside chair with the assistance of her cane. "Shattered femur, second-degree burns on her side, broken right wrist, possible head trauma," the nurse had said. "Go easy on this one. She's a champ, but she's already talking like she has survivor's guilt."

"Hi, Jessica, I'm Marissa." Usually Marissa would hold out her hand to shake, but since she knew Jessica's arm was in a cast, she settled for touching the railing of the bed briefly. "I'm with the NTSB. We're trying to find out what happened to your plane. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?"

She heard the rustle of Jessica's head on the pillow, then a soft, "Yes." A dry swallow. "I don't know much, though."

"That's okay." Marissa took out a small digital recorder. "I'm going to record what you say so I don't miss anything, okay? Let's start with why you were on the plane. You were headed for Chicago?"

Another dry swallow, then, "Yes. For school. The Art Institute. My parents gave me a charm bracelet. Have you seen it?"

"No, but we'll look for it, okay? That's part of what NTSB does." In her years with Transportation Disaster Assistance, she'd spent a lot of time tracking down personal belongings for survivors and victims' families. It always amazed her how much small objects could come to matter to people in the face of overwhelming disaster. "Did everything seem normal when you boarded the plane?"

Marissa took Jessica step-by-step to the moment of the crash, as she had with all the survivors. Jessica didn't mention smelling or seeing smoke, which made sense seeing as she'd been asleep until the plane was already headed down, but no one else had, either. On a small regional jet, that was surprising, but Marissa knew better than to ask any leading questions at this point in the investigation.

"What can you tell me about the moment of impact?"

"I—I don't—that exact moment, I can't remember. Everyone was shouting. I think the attendants were trying to tell us what to do, and I could hear the pilot yelling about holding a line, or maybe he said something about the time? I just—I couldn't—I think part of me was hoping it was a dream." Jessica took a deep breath. "One minute I was holding my seatmate's hand, and the next I woke up in the field. There was dirt in my mouth and I couldn't—I couldn't get up. Do you know what happened to her?"

"To whom?"

"My seatmate." Jessica's speech went from hesitant to clipped. "She was an older woman, going to visit her grandchildren in Milwaukee. Kind of short. Curly white hair. We talked a little at the beginning of the flight, but I didn't get her name."

"I'm not sure." Marissa didn't add that she hadn't interviewed any survivors fitting that description; three were still in surgery, and it was possible the woman was among them. "I'll find out for you, though. Do you remember your seat number?"

"No, but we were just behind the wing. She had the window. She was so excited to see her family, just as I was leaving mine behind." Jessica's voice was clogged, and Marissa felt her throat twist in sympathy. This was the point at which she could feel her mindset switch from investigator to TDA specialist, a job she'd done for so many years it was nearly instinctual. Investigating was different, but it didn't mean she had to ignore Jessica's very real emotional distress. "She crushed my hand as we were going down. I had no idea she was so strong."

"Jessica." Marissa switched off the recorder, then reached over and put a hand on the bed rail again, offering a connection. "Whatever happened to her, I'm sure it meant the world to her that you were with her in those moments. And I know she'd be so glad you've survived."

"But her family—" Jessica choked on a sob.

"They'll be grateful she had someone to comfort her, too. I promise you, I'll find out what happened to her. If her family is here, they may want to speak to you. Would that be all right?"

"Y-yes."

"Okay, I'll tell them. And I will see what we can do about your bracelet. It may take a couple days, but I promise you I won't give up." She stood and unfolded her cane. "I'm going to send your parents back in. I'll probably need to talk to you again, when you've had a chance to rest. And later tonight or tomorrow we'll have people here to help with your next few steps to recovery. We can't change what happened today, but we're here to make sure this doesn't happen again."

At that, Jessica burst into sobs, and her parents, who must have been hovering, listening, rushed into the room. Marissa tried to make her way past them to the door, but a firm, thick hand grabbed her arm.

"What did you say to her?" the gruff voice belonged to Jessica's father.

Marissa went stiff, pulling away slightly, but Mr. O'Grady held on. "I have to interview all the survivors." She put a slight emphasis on the word. "We need to know what happened, so it doesn't happen to anyone else's daughter." He relaxed his hold with a grunt, and she added, softly, "There is a long road ahead for Jessica, and she'll need help. Please don't push away those of us who are offering it."

"No, no, I'm just—" He sounded nearly as distraught as his daughter. "She's my baby girl. You can't see what she looks like right now, but it's horrible."

"She's alive," Marissa reminded him. "She's strong, and she'll survive. For that, I'm very grateful."

Mr. O'Grady finally released her, with a slight, embarrassed pat on her shoulder. "Yeah. Me too."

Marissa walked out the open door, expecting to be met by Reilly. She was a bit surprised that Winslow was the one who handed her the harness.

"Did they send you to check up on me?" she asked as she folded her cane and put it in her bag. Together, the three of them headed for the elevator bank.

"Just to see how far along you are. Brigatti's giving the first press conference downstairs, since this is where the survivors are and we don't have a hotel set up as base yet."

"How are things going on site?"

"There are a few lighting rigs, but that field is seriously the middle of nowhere. It'll be hard to get much more until morning."

"Something tells me Gary's still out there trying."

Winslow laughed, a rueful sound. "Got it in one." He cleared his throat as the elevator arrived, and once they were inside, he said, "Hey, uh, I'm glad I heard that last bit, with the girl's father. I wouldn't have known how to handle it. You were so nice to him, even though he was ready to take your head off when his girl started crying."]

"I just remember what Crumb always says," she told him. "For most of these people, today is—"

"The worst day of their lives," Winslow finished with her.

"So I try to give them a little space to lash out if that's what they need." She didn't add that this was the hardest part of the job, absorbing all the fear and frustration and despair.

They walked in on the tail end of Toni Brigatti's update. "We've accounted for everyone who was on the plane. Forty passengers, four crew. There were thirty-one survivors, which is a remarkable number given the violence of the landing. Unfortunately, the pilot and co-pilot were among the fatalities. In the coming days, our investigation will center on the reason the pilot requested an emergency landing at Chicago Rockport, and how that may have lead to the crash. I'll take questions now, but as I'm sure you all know, I can't promise many answers at this early stage."

Marissa's phone vibrated as the questions began. It was Gary's pattern, so she stepped out of the room and answered.

"How's it going, partner?"

"It's not," he said, grumpy as Oscar the Grouch. "I'm stuck here guarding the site like—like some kind of bouncer. Haven't even made it into the cockpit yet."

"Well, from what you said it really wasn't in good shape. Maybe that's for the best tonight."

"That's what she kept saying, every time she chased me out."

"Gary—"

"I can't work like this!"

"Don't be a diva, Gary."

"I'm not the diva here."

She snorted, because they both knew that wasn't true.

"I want a new case. Even if I'm not lead. Maybe it'll be somewhere on foreign soil."

"Gary—"

"As far away from that—that woman as possible."

Maybe it was the way he'd used her to cause interference from the beginning of the case, or maybe it was just her own exhaustion talking, but Marissa was done listening to his whining. "You know what? You're wrong about her. She's doing the presser right now and she's very good." Exhausted as she was, she couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him a little. "She hasn't tripped over her own words once, unlike some people I know."

He let out a frustrated breath. "How are the survivors? They give you anything?"

"Not a lot. No one's really in much of a place to do that yet."

Some of her exhaustion must have seeped into her voice, because Gary softened. "Yeah, this is a bad one. But we'll figure it out. Or we will if Brigatti ever gives me a chance to do my job."

"She's making sure we all do," Marissa said. The press conference must have ended, because people were flooding the hall. "I have to go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight."

She shut off her phone and held up a hand. "Winslow?"

"Right here." He bumped into her dog, who let out a confused whine. "Sorry, buddy. What's up? Need a place to sleep? Because I sure as hell do."

"I need some information first. Can you find out what seat Jessica O'Grady was in? She's asking what happened to the woman next to her."

"Uh, yeah, I have the manifest, and we have a few victims' names." They stepped to the side of the hall so the reporters could file past. "O'Grady was fifteen B. Fifteen A would have been Rose Harper." There was a pause, then. "Shit. I'm sorry. She didn't make it."

"That's what I was afraid of." Her night wasn't over yet, but then, neither was Jessica's. Neither was anyone else's. "I need to get back up to ICU."

~*~*~*~

The next few days went by in a flurry of work, meetings, and, occasionally, sleep, though that never lasted more than four hours. Gary went along with Brigatti's meticulous method as much as he could--or at least, he tried to. She rushed to record every detail and every bit of context before they had to take the wreckage to a hanger, whereas he wanted time with it--time to think, time to imagine, time to figure it out.

He didn't know how to explain it to someone like Brigatti without looking like a fool, but the planes spoke to him, even when they were broken or bent. A list of details was all well and good, but they could be focused on after he'd intuited the scope and cause of the overall problem. He couldn't explain how he got to that point, which was why it was hard to justify what he did. But he would have thought his results spoke for themselves.

He couldn't help but think Brigatti's method forced them to think in smaller and smaller pieces, like staring at the dots in one of those Impressionist paintings instead of stepping back once in a while to remember what the whole looked like. Instead, he spent an entire day, three days after they arrived, picking bobby pins and pencils out of a soybean field with tweezers. Rain was in the forecast, and while the biggest debris was being transported to a hanger in Belvedere for reconstruction, Brigatti ordered all hands on deck to get every last bit of the plane, of the luggage, of people's lives, out of the field. Gary had hand it to her; unlike a lot of IICs he'd worked with, she went out into the field and worked harder than anyone walking the grid and collecting debris.

He photographed a pair of ear buds, noted their location, and added them to the plastic tub he was carrying, not even noticing until he stood up and turned around that Brigatti was just a few squares away, kneeling in the dirt and sweeping plants out of the way to see what was under them while she handled a phone call.

"No, no, tell him that's not on us, but we'll mediate with the airline if need be. Okay, thanks." She turned the phone off and looked up, catching him staring, as she had more than once over the past few days.

He had to admit, he'd stared more often than that. She didn't always catch him, but he caught himself, and he wasn't exactly sure why. She was attractive, sure, but she was also a pain in the butt. Next thing he knew, she'd have him digging every inch of that field with a spoon in the hopes of turning up a stray button.

"The farmer," she said, gesturing with her phone before tucking it into her pocket. "He wants someone to pay for the damage to his peas." She cast a confused frown at the plants under her hand. "Or whatever."

"Soybeans," Gary said. She made a move to push herself to her feet, and he held out a hand to help her up.

"Soybeans? Huh." She got up without even looking at his hand.

"Yeah. You didn't know?"

"I grew up in San Diego, Hobson. You?"

"Indiana."

"That's right." She stretched her back with a wince. "Some little town--Walnut?"

"Uh, Hickory, actually. How'd you know that?"

"I like to know my team." She held his gaze for a half second, then grinned. "And Winslow talks a lot."

"That he does. What else do you know?"

"Let's see. McCarthy is a veteran investigator who doesn't have a lot of ambition, but plenty of knowledge. He's right where he wants to be. His wife sells jewelry on Etsy. Cute stuff, not my style."

Gary blinked. It was weird to think of her having a style, beyond navy shirt and ponytail and baseball cap.

"I know Marissa has more education than the rest of you put together, and she sings in a choir in her spare time." At Gary's nod, she gestured at the next marker, which was just a few feet away, and they both trod a careful path there. "Oh, and I know Winslow doesn't want anyone to know his first name."

"Ain't that the truth." A silvery glint caught Gary's eye, and he bent down. "Candy wrapper," he said ruefully, but at Brigatti's look, he photographed and noted it in the log. "As far as Winslow goes, all I have is an initial. R."

"That's not even the real initial."

"You know his name? Spill."

"Not quite yet." Brigatti crouched down next to the next marker and started lifting the flattened plants around it. Gary moved a couple feet away and knelt as well. "And then there's you," she went on. "I know you have a problem, but I can't tell if it's with something about this assignment, or with me personally."

"It's not you. Not exactly." Since she was being so open, he decided he might as well be, too. "It's more like your method. You've got us looking at all these tiny puzzle pieces. When are we going to start putting it together?"

"Once this field is cleared."

"I don't just mean the plane." He sat back on his heels. "I like to see the whole thing from the pilot's angle if I can. I can't figure out what happens unless I see the complete picture."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You do realize that picture is made of tiny pieces, right?"

"I need them put together. If I can see the whole thing, my brain just kind of…" He twirled a finger by his ear. "Combines it for me. It comes together, usually when I least expect it, and I'll know the—the overall cause, I guess you could say. Then I go back and make sure the details support the conclusion."

She shook her head with a smile that was a lot less mocking than he'd expected. "So, what, you wake up from a dream and have it solved?"

"Well, yeah, a couple times."

"Must be nice to make those big leaps," she said. "You do realize that's a result of all those details coming together? Details other people have to gather, if you won't?"

"I can work details as well as anyone." His fingertip caught on something hard; not a rock, as he'd first expected, but a bit of pewter shaped like a can of paint, half buried in the dirt. He gave it a tug and out came an entire bracelet. "See? Have you read my notes on the initial engine tests?"

"That you're sure didn't fail? Yeah, that was super helpful." Absorbed in photographing something, she didn't look up for a few seconds, and then she seemed to realize he hadn't responded. "Sorry. Sarcasm is kind of a reflex with me."

He relented, shot her a half-grin. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Funny guy." She dropped an iPhone with a shattered screen into her tub, then tilted her head as she stared at him, as if reassessing something she'd thought about him. "It is true that the more possible causes we can eliminate, the closer we'll get to the truth. I just wish the truth would jump out at me once in a while, like it seems to do to you."

Caught in her shrewd gaze, Gary stammered, "Yeah, it—well, it works. Sometimes." He waited until she'd released him, turning back to her own digging, before he asked, "What should I know about you?"

She shot him a sidelong glance and raised an eyebrow, like a archer drawing back her bow. "I'm your lead on this investigation. That's enough for now."

"For now," he echoed with a shrug that he hoped looked a lot more casual than he felt.

~*~*~*~

By the time they had the majority of the fuselage reconstructed, Gary was dreaming the crash every night. He couldn't get all the information to come together, though he'd listened to Marissa's initial interviews with the surviving flight attendant and the passengers. None of them mentioned smoke; it was a matter of one minute it was a normal flight, and the next the co-pilot told them to get ready for an emergency landing and then, bang, they were down.

He was in the hanger, working with James Lowell from Doring on the instrumentation tests on the panels they'd salvaged from the ruined cockpit while Brigatti poured over the latest batch of reports from the team at a desk in the back, when Winslow sauntered up to their workbench, holding up a bit of charred something-or-other the size of a bolt.

"I found this in the baggage hold. You think it's important?"

"Could be," Gary didn't think it was, but he knew better than to say so with Brigatti in--well, not earshot, she was too far away, but in the vicinity. "Better note it in the log, just to be sure."

"Your IIC, she doesn't miss a trick, does she?" Lowell asked.

Gary couldn't help it; he snorted. Tried to cover it with a cough into his elbow, but Winslow shot him a wicked look from under his flop of blond bangs. Gary braced himself for what he was fairly sure was coming, already regretting the door his own reaction had opened.

"Yeah, she's a stickler, that's for sure," Winslow said. "Do you know she had me make a spreadsheet and a map, both, of every single personal belonging we found in that field? Everything from laptops to styluses and aspirin tablets. I'm an investigator, not an archaeologist."

"It wouldn't hurt to think of yourself like one," Gary told him. "We found all kinds of stuff in that field that matters to the survivors and the victims' families."

"None of which is going to solve this crash," Winslow said. "The problem was mechanical. What good does it do, focusing on all that stuff? Never had any trainer talk about doing that before. Maybe it's a female thing."

"Or maybe it's a thorough thing," Gary muttered.

"She's definitely thorough," Winslow said.

"And definitely female," Lowell said, not unappreciatively, but Gary felt his spine straighten. "I mean, I know that windbreaker hides a lot, but she seems like the kind who's, well, you know."

"Cold on the streets, hot in the—"

Gary flipped a switch that sent a high-pitched alarm echoing around the hanger, cutting Winslow off. "Alerts work." He flashed a glare at Winslow, daring him to say it again.

"I'm just saying, she seems like--"

"A damn good investigator," Gary said with what he hoped was some finality.

Winslow's cocky smile faded, but he let out a low whistle. "Geez, Hobson, I thought you didn't like her."

"I never said that." He turned to Lowell. "Everything here checks out."

"Yeah, this wasn't the failure."

It wasn't exactly a breakthrough. But, as Brigatti had said, it was one more thing they could cross off the list.

Gary wandered toward the fuselage, where Marissa stood atop a rolling ladder with McCarthy, who was talking her through the placement of the seats. "You guys got anything?"

"I want to talk to 3C and 4A again," Marissa said. "They were the closest survivors to the cockpit, and that seems to be where the trouble started." She ran her hand over the headrest of a seat. "I don't know that there's much I can put together here, unless you see something in the seating arrangement." She thanked McCarthy and climbed down. "So, Toni says--"

"Toni," he echoed. "That's what you're calling her?"

"What am I supposed to call her? Brigatti?" She dropped her voice low on the name; Gary supposed she was imitating him, but did he really sound like that much of a dolt? "The question is why you don't call her Toni?"

"I don't know, she seems a little--a little, uh, cold for that." The word slipped out before he could think, before he could kick himself for it.

Marissa put her hands on her hips. "You just blasted Winslow for calling her cold."

"You heard that?"

"Oh, yeah, buddy."

Gary craned his neck to check the corner desk, where Brigatti was on the phone, thank God. "You think she heard it?"

Marissa hesitated, before a little quirk of her lips told him she was teasing. "Probably not. But I'd watch yourself around her. I think maybe you like her more than you want to admit."

"Oh, come on."

"Gary. I haven't heard you stammer in months, not since your divorce was finalized, and now you can barely complete a sentence when she's around, plus you're defending her to those sexist jerks."

"Maybe that's just because they are sexist jerks. They shouldn't talk about a woman, any woman, that way. It's not gentlemanly."

"Sure, that's what you're going for," she said with a smirk. "Gentlemanly."

"You think I'm not gentlemanly?" At her shrug, he knocked his elbow against her arm. "I'll prove it to you. Let me buy you lunch."

She took his arm. "Only if you promise to eat yours for once."

~*~*~*~

That night, they sat around a table in the hotel's lone conference room, listening to the pilots in the flight's last moments, thanks to Miguel's work with the CVR.

"Still can't figure out where it's coming from."

"We're not going to make it to Rockport. I can't even see my instruments."

"No, no, hold it, man, there's the highway right there, we can put it down."

"Come on, baby, level off! I can't see—"

There was a bit of garble, most of it probably cursing, then Gary swore he heard the copilot yell, "Is that a fucking cow?"

"Man, I'd hate for those to be my last words," Winslow said, so low Brigatti could have ignored him, but instead she flashed him a glare.

Gary glanced over at a small, strangled sound. Marissa clutched her hands together on the table. Her dog pressed against her leg with a little whine. For her, Brigatti had a sympathetic look. When she met Gary's eyes, it was--what was that? Certainly nothing he'd describe as cold, that was for sure.

"About what we expected," he offered. "They requested an emergency landing because of the smoke, but for whatever reason they didn't make it."

"It's that 'whatever reason' that we need to figure out," Brigatti said. "How does this fit with what we know?"

McCarthy filled them in on the overall condition of the wing and the fuselage; Winslow and Gary reported on the engine and the instruments; Miguel chimed in over Skype about the instrument data he'd pulled from the Flight Data Recorder; and Marissa told them how it fit with what she'd gleaned from her interviews.

"I know we're short on resources right now," Marissa finished, "but the TDA specialist wants to know when we can release personal effects to the victims and their families."]

"I want to hang on to everything that could have possibly caused a fire or smoke, but anything that doesn't have wires or signs of fire can go in the next few days," Brigatti said.]

"Then why did I spend all that time cataloging?" Winslow whined.

She flashed an inscrutable look at Gary. "Because we need the whole picture."

"Winslow," Marissa asked, "was there a charm bracelet in the effects?"

"Probably. There was definitely jewelry. Uh, I'll check on that when we're done here," he added at Brigatti's exasperated look.

"Yeah, there was. I found it," Gary told her. "We'll track it down if it's important to you."

"It's important to one of the survivors."

"Okay, so we have the time the smoke appeared," Gary started, hoping to get them back on track.

"Time of the smoke being noticed," Brigatti corrected.

"Right, and they started looking for an emergency landing how long after?"

"Four minutes twenty-three seconds," Brigatti said at the same time as Miguel, who finished, "They must have spent that long looking for the source."

"That's an eternity," McCarthy said.

"So where would they have looked?" Winslow asked.

"We know the co-pilot looked under the seats and had the attendant check the galley. Don't think they got down to the baggage hold, though," Miguel said.

"We have two questions," Brigatti insisted. "Where did the smoke come from, and why did they crash?"

"Isn't that the same question?" Marissa asked.

"Possibly. Possibly not," Brigatti said.

"They're trying to even it out at the end there," Gary said.

"Yeah, altimeter data says they tilted off level twenty seconds before impact," Miguel said. "It's almost like they were blown over, like a sailboat, but we know there wasn't a wind strong enough to do that that day."

"Any weather at all?" Brigatti asked.

"Clear blue sky."

She sat back with a sigh. "Okay, let's listen again."

Gary knew what she was doing; they needed to hear the CVR enough times that the emotional impact was dampened, but it was rough on him, and probably rougher on the trainees. They listened to the whole thing five times, evaluating how it lined up with the FDR's information and their own findings.

"We know our way forward," Brigatti said after the fifth run through. "We know what we don't know, and we know what it wasn't. Let's all get some sleep and regroup in the morning."

Gary cleared his throat.

"You got something to say, Hobson?"

"Uh, it's just--it's been a long week, and I know we're all tired, but I thought maybe we could use a beer or something. Go out, you know, as--as a team?"

Brigatti looked like she wanted to kill him. Or maybe just sleep. The fluorescent light overhead cast harsh lines around her eyes. "If that's what you want, fine. You're off the clock, so go ahead."

"Come with us," Winslow said as he stood, sounding like a teenage boy who wanted his mom to give him a ride to a movie or something.

"There's a bar just down the block," Gary added. "We can walk."

"You've scoped out the bars around here?"

"Just that one, and I didn't scope it out. I just—I noticed it, that's all." But he needed it. They all needed it. And while Brigatti was a decent team leader on the ground, she maybe wasn't as used to this particular team and what they needed after a full week of work on the road. The question was, could she admit it to him, give up that small amount of control?

She stared at him, unblinking. He wished he could get a better read on her, but he kept getting lost in the depths of her dark eyes. "Okay," she finally said. "Let's go."

~*~*~*~

Duffy's was a quiet, kind of run-down bar, with brushed steel tabletops, battered wooden chairs and stools, and a pool table that had seen better days. After a shared round of appetizers and a pitcher of lukewarm beer, the team drifted to different corners of the place, filling in the spots that the handful of regulars left open.

Gary talked to the bartender for a couple minutes about Belvedere and walked away with a beer that was actually cold in one fist and a handful of darts in the other. On his way to the dartboard, he stopped at a dark corner table that was covered with printouts, spreadsheets, maps--everything they'd collected over the past week. Brigatti sat alone, using her cell phone's flashlight app to illuminate the papers as she moved her lips, though no sound came out.

"You want a drink?" he asked.

She pointed at a pile of papers, blinked, and then pulled a tumbler of amber liquid out from under it. "I have one."

"You haven't touched it."

She shrugged. "I can't figure this out. There's not a hint as to why there was smoke, let alone why the plane crashed."

"Yeah, I know. It's frustrating." He resisted, barely, the urge to take her by the arm and pull her into the conversation going on around the pool table, where the rest of the team had gathered to process--or in most cases, avoid processing--the past few days. "It's why we needed a break tonight."

She looked past him to the team, where Winslow was laughing hard at his own joke while Marissa's mouth twisted in a pained grimace. "You weren't wrong about that," she acknowledged.

"Yeah, well, what about you?"

She tapped the closest pile of papers, printouts of the altimeter readings. "I can't let it go."

"Once in a while you have to. At least, that's what my psych major friend over there keeps telling me." He gestured at the television, where Northwestern was losing badly to Ohio State. "You like football? Sports?"

She flashed him a quirked grin, and something in his chest turned inside out. "You trying to get the scoop on me, Hobson?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'm just trying to, uh, you know, get you to look up from those papers." He swept his arm, and she ducked to avoid a faint spray of beery foam. "Take a-a broader view."]

"Maybe." She arched her back, stretching it, and took a sip of the whiskey, then made a disgusted face. "This is...not good."

"What did you expect in outer Belvedere?" he asked. "Come on. I bet you throw a mean dart."

"You have no idea," she said, and no, he really didn't. Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he kind of wished he did. But she hunched her shoulders again, curling herself over the papers. "If I could just figure out whether the smoke had anything to do with the crash." Her voice dropped, as if she wasn't talking to him anymore. "Was something in the altimeter burning out?"

He shook his head. "If you decide you want to give that giant brain of yours a rest, Hermione, come join us."

"Yeah," she said, not reacting one way or another to the nickname. Either she didn't get it, or didn't care.

Gary threw darts for a while with McCarthy, each of them pulling the other back when their talk veered to close to the crash. When his beer was gone, he decided it was time to rescue Marissa from Winslow's bad jokes. He pulled out one of the chairs at their table and straddled it. "Hey, what's up?" He slid his glass and Marissa's over to Winslow. "Rookie buys the next round."

"She's a rookie, too," Winslow said with a pout, but he gathered up the glasses and headed over to the bar.

"Sorry to leave you stranded with him," Gary said.

"He's not so bad once you get to know him." Marissa made a face that said he was close, though. "And if you can ignore his crass idea of humor. What's Toni doing?"

"She's still working. She can't let it go."

"Maybe that's what makes her so good." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Gary, I had to call the Western Pacific offices to get some information about Doring's manufacturing plant out there, and I ended up chatting with Rita Chesterton, their executive assistant. There's something about Toni you should know."

Gary nudged her ankle with his foot; Winslow was coming back with their drinks. Gary took his beer and Marissa's wine, then waved at the dartboard. "I think Jim's looking for someone to play with, if you're interested."

"Sure." But Winslow waited a minute, looking between Gary and Marissa expectantly, until he finally decided he wasn't getting in on the conversation and moved on to McCarthy.

"Coast is clear," Gary told Marissa. "Unless you're turning into Winslow, collecting rumors on your coworkers."

She shook her head, exasperated. "I went looking for information, not gossip. Rita found out we're working with Toni and she couldn't stop singing her praises. Remember that private plane that vanished in the Sierra Nevada last year? She's the one who found it."

"Yeah? I guess I'd expect her to be on the team out there, if she's a big enough deal to get transferred to national headquarters."

"You don't understand, Gary. She found it. Dan Billings was the IIC, but she was the one who put it all together--the eyewitness reports, the radar data, the last calls from the pilot. She figured out where he'd gone off course and how. Rita told me they wanted to reopen D.B. Cooper and put her on it. There was talk she was going to make chief of WestPac, then all of a sudden last week she transferred to D.C."

"Yeah, well, Billings is up for chief out there when Saunders retires next spring. Has been for years. Maybe that's why she transferred."

"She didn't request the transfer. Rita said they offered and she was strongly encouraged to take it. They painted it as a move up, but it's really more lateral—no pay raise, no promise of a move up the ladder. They wanted to get her out of the way."

"You're really pushing for that investigator ranking, aren't you?" Gary took a pull of his beer. "Maybe that does explain a few things." Like why she was so cranky so much of time. "Still doesn't mean I want to work under her every time."

A mischievous sparkle lit Marissa's eyes. "Maybe not _under._ You might want to mix it up once in a while."

"That wine is getting to you. You know I didn't mean it that way."

"Deny it all you want, pal. I know a Gary Crush when I hear one, and I--" She broke off, swiveling her head toward the bar. Gary looked over and saw a breaking news alert on the television. Except for a country song on the jukebox, the rest of the bar had fallen quiet as everyone turned to watch the screen. "What's happening?"

"Dunno. Hold on." The breaking news card was replaced by a shot of an airport runway and an urgent reporter blinking into the glare of a news camera's light. Gary opened his mouth to ask the bartender to turn up the sound, but Brigatti was already there, grabbing the remote from its perch atop a box of peanuts and waving at the jukebox while she turned up the sound.

"...from Detroit Metro Airport, where that Global Airlines jet took off from just a few minutes before it made a water landing in Lake Eerie. Details are hard to get right now, but we're hearing the plane was a regional jet headed for Buffalo. Here's a stock shot of the kind of plane we're talking about, a commuter jet that typically holds forty to fifty passengers."

Gary stood and walked up to the bar to get a look at the screen. "Is that--?"

"Yeah," Brigatti said. "Different airline, same plane. Doring CLJ-500."

Marissa had followed Gary to the bar; she reached out, and he took her hand. "Was anyone hurt?" she asked, more to the reporter than to anyone near her. Gary squeezed her hand.

The reporter pressed his earpiece, then said, "We're getting reports that the flight crew initiated an evacuation of the plane as soon as they hit the water. No word about how that went, but the Coast Guard was there within minutes to help get everyone out of the water."

Not even the top volume of the television could mask the sound of five phones going off all at once, all sounding the NTSB's general alert—all except Gary's, which blasted its ringtone. He stepped over to the deserted pool table to take the call. "Crumb? Just saw what's happening out of Detroit."

"I want you there," Crumb said without preamble. "Word is there was smoke in the cockpit, just like in Belvedere."

Gary watched the other members of his team huddle around the bar, their attention alternating between their phones and the television. "You're pulling me from this investigation?"

"I'm making you IIC on the new one. I'll scramble a team to meet you there. Take Winslow with you, since he knows the details."

"What about Marissa?"

"Nope. They've already scrambled a TDA team. She needs to stay on the interviews there. Is Brigatti with you? Let me talk to her."

Gary caught her attention and waved her over. Her conversation with Crumb was short and terse, mostly a couple of, "Yes, sir"s. When she handed him back the phone, he was surprised to see she looked more resigned than relieved.

"Get over to the airport. We'll line up a private pilot to get you to Detroit tonight. Don't let me down, Hobson."

"No, sir."

Gary took another moment after he'd hung up to watch the team—no longer his team, he thought ruefully—listen to what Toni had to say.

Investigator in Charge. Finally. It was supposed to be a victory.

So why didn't it feel like one?

~*~*~*~

A few days after what the news was calling the Miracle on Lake Eerie, Toni made her way to the breakfast room just after it opened. It offered the same collection of rubbery eggs, cold sausage, second-rate yogurt, and the Froot Loops that had been untouched the whole time they were there. The hotel's free breakfast was considered part of their daily compensation, and it wasn't as if she ate more than a carton of yogurt or a bowl of oatmeal at home, but by the middle of the second week in Belvedere, Toni was wishing for crepes or an omelet, or hell, a bowl of cereal, provided it wasn't a) stale, and b) coated in sugar.

At a table by the cold, un-plugged-in fireplace, Marissa Clark sat with her dog by her side, answering questions from a couple of kids in swimsuits. Most mornings she ate with Hobson, but of course he wasn't there now. Toni gave up on trying to figure out breakfast and took a cup of coffee the same translucent brown as maple syrup over to the table.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not, Toni. Good morning."

One of the little girls looked up from her crouch on the floor next to the dog. "Can we take him for a walk?"

"Sorry, hon, he's about to go on duty," Marissa said. "Maybe this evening if you're still here, we can all take a little walk together."

"Oh, yes! Can we go all the way to the gas station?"

"We'll see what your parents say." Marissa's smile seemed genuine enough as she took a gulp of her coffee as though she needed it as badly as Toni did. But she made a face that perfectly conveyed the lackluster quality of the hotel's offering.

"Coffee up to its usual standard?" Toni asked.

Marissa nodded. "I guess I should be used to it, but at this point in an assignment I get homesick for the little diner that's on the first floor of my apartment building."

"I know what you mean. I'm still trying to get used to not being in Seattle, where there's a coffee store at every intersection. It's possible it's a city regulation." Toni drummed a quick beat on the table. "You know, there's a Starbucks counter at the grocery store down the road. It's got to be better than this. Want to charge ourselves up for a change? On me," she added when Marissa hesitated.

"No, no, it's not that—sure. Sure, let's go." She rescued Reilly from the kids and they left their halfhearted attempts at breakfast on the table.

"This is more like it." Toni said when they sat down at a tiny table in the back corner of the grocery store. She tried a sip of her espresso. "Not perfect, but at least I won't be wanting a nap at ten this morning."

Marissa took a drink of her own coffee and nodded. "How different is DC from Seattle?"

"I haven't really had a chance to find out yet. Haven't even found a place to live."

"Seriously?" Marissa pulled out her phone. "I'm sending you my friend Jenna's contact. She's a real estate agent. You're going to need one in that market."

"Thanks. Seattle's just as bad. I have to hire someone to clean out my old place this week, or my former landlord's going to toss all my stuff to the curb. Every time I think about making the call, something comes up with this case. Have you had a chance to do another interview with the flight attendant?"

Marissa blinked. "It's scheduled for today. Anything in particular you want to know?"

"Yeah, did she see the smoke? What color was it? Where was it coming from? How did it bring the whole plane down? You want to take notes?"

"Those are all on my list," Marissa assured her. "She may still be a little groggy from the concussion, but hopefully she'll be able to give us more complete answers today."

"Yeah, of course you know to ask all that. Sorry. I'm a little obsessive."

"I've noticed. But it's not a bad thing, in a job like this. I've spent hours transcribing all those interviews, listening to them over and over, just trying to find that one piece that will make the crash make sense. I guess we're all obsessive in our own ways. Speaking of which, I was wondering if I can get a copy of the catalog of effects. I'm trying to track down something for one of the survivors."

"Oh, yeah, you mentioned that the other night. A charm bracelet, right?"

She nodded. "It belongs to Jessica O'Grady. It's very important to her, and she's having a tough time. She'd made friends with her seat mate, and the woman died. Jessica ended up outside the plane and she blames herself for leaving the woman, even though she doesn't remember how she got out of the plane."

"That's rough. But yeah, Hobson found a bracelet when we scanned the field. I'll find it for you. Speaking of which," she added in the world's worst segue, "What's his deal?"

Marissa was mid-drink, and she coughed before she asked. "Who, Gary? What do you mean?"

"You gotta admit, the guy's kind of…out there. I mean, maybe you don't realize it, if he's all you've ever worked with, but some of his methods are definitely unorthodox."

"Oh, believe me, I know." Marissa took refuge in another drink of her coffee before she went on. "You're going to find out sooner or later, so even though the details aren't mine to share, I'll tell you this much: when Gary was twelve, his older sister was killed in a crash that's never been fully explained."

Toni did the math in her head. Hobson was in his forties now, and he was from Indiana, so that meant the crash was probably…"His sister was on North American 404?"

"Yeah," Marissa said on a sigh. "He's never gotten over it. To be honest, I think he's still hoping he'll solve that one somehow. He carries that—he carries her--everywhere he goes. It's a big part of what makes him different. He never forgets there are people, real people with grief and wounds, who are affected by this, but sometimes he can't step outside that knowledge. He gets caught up in imagining what each person on a plane went through, and he just—he gets lost, and he needs someone to pull him back."

"And that's you?"

"These days, yeah," Marissa said ruefully. "He was married, but he got divorced a couple years ago. She blindsided him, just told him one day she didn't love him anymore and tossed him out."

"I do not need a guy with that kind of baggage," Toni said, before she remembered she was speaking to that guy's best friend.

"He carries it well on the job, at least the stuff about the divorce."

"What about off the job?"

"He's learning," she said simply. "The thing is, his investigative methods work for him, just like yours work for you, and mine for me. Takes all kinds to make a deal." She propped her elbows on the table and asked brightly, "So what's your deal? You could have stayed at WestPac and tried for chief, and instead you came to DC, where you'll have to fight to be IIC every time."

Toni couldn't help it; she let out a snort. "I had an approximately zero-point-two chance of ever being made chief. Once the boys' network realized I could out-think, out-investigate, and out-manage them, they did everything they could to make my work life as difficult as possible—weird hours, boring assignments, veiled harassment that they knew they could get away with because if I reported them, I'd be the one reassigned, most likely to Alaska. It's how this agency works. It's how everything works. Hell, it's probably how this grocery store works. Are you sure you want to become an investigator and get mired in all this? Or do you think having Hobson protecting you is enough?"

Marissa's expression darkened. "I keep telling him he has to stop interfering on my behalf. I really wish he hadn't pushed you on my account."

Toni shrugged. "No worries. It's worked out fine, especially if you know better than to hitch your wagon to any man's star in this organization. They will sell you out every time."

"It isn't like that. Gary and I make a good team. Not a complete one," she acknowledged with a lift of one shoulder, "but we're a good two-fifths of a team."

"Well, I'm glad you're the fifth of that team that I got to keep this time." Toni stood. "We should get to the hanger. Want a refill for the road?"

~*~*~*~

Lake Eerie was grey and cold; the hanger where the salvage teams had brought Global 5691 seemed even colder. Maybe it was the sound of water still dripping from the mostly intact fuselage a day later. Perched on a plastic cover to keep his ass dry, Gary called Marissa from the cockpit after he'd listened to a recording of Winslow's halting interview with the pilot three times. Not once had any of the answers sparked a picture of what had gone down in that very space a few nights ago.

"You want to tell me why Crumb sent me to a work a crash that involves interviewing fifty survivors without our best interviewer?" he demanded when she answered.

"Maybe because he wants you to get better at it," Marissa sounded only half-teasing. "Be glad survivors are all you have."

"Yeah, I know." He stretched his legs as far in front of him as he could. "I thought I would be better off as IIC, where I wouldn't be tripping over Brigatti and her style at every turn. Instead, I'm turning into her."

"Really?"

"Today I told Winslow to run the engine test three times to make sure the results were verified."

"Wow, you're right," she said dryly. "Your whole personality has been transplanted. Better check for signs of alien interference."

"You're funny."

"Come on, Gary. It's not as if you and Toni are exact opposites. You're just at different places on the spectrum of investigative styles. Maybe you need someone like her to learn to branch out. Maybe she needs the same thing. Maybe that's why Crumb put you on her team to begin with."

"Yeah, well, I'm back on it."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "The pilots here are describing the same thing we heard from the CVR on Liberty 1611. Smoke in the cabin, accumulated quickly, made the instruments hard to read. Lucky for them they'd gone to some kind of water landing training session with Sullenberger a couple years ago, and they were able to get it down on the water. Plane took a lot of water damage, but everyone made it out. You guys having any luck?"

"Not really. I'm starting to think something's up with Doring. Mr. Lowell hasn't answered my calls, or Toni's, for the past couple days. I did get one bit from the surviving attendant. The copilot told her the smoke in the cockpit was 'whitish' when he went back to check the galley, but she was at the back of the plane when it went down. She never saw it for herself."

Gary reached over and pressed a couple of buttons on the instrument panel, which was still too waterlogged to give any response. "Yeah, white smoke, that's what they're saying here, too. Doesn't seem to have affected their ability to control the plane like it did there, though."

"Still," Marissa said slowly, "if they're both Doring planes, and you think the cause is the same, you know what that means."

"Yeah, of course I know. I'm not stupid." He just didn't want to say it; didn't want to admit, out loud, that he had to give up IIC status to Brigatti when the investigations were, inevitably, combined.

"You should have called her before me, you know that. She's not going to like this at all." When he didn't answer, she added, "I'm not going to fix this for you."

"Funny, that's what Crumb said."

"Oh, Gary, you didn't call him before Toni, too. You know he wants to--" She dropped her voice a couple registers, in an imitation of Crumb's gruffest tone. "--facilitate and delegate, not hold your damn hands."

"Trust me, I got that straight from the horse's mouth. Almost word for word." He let out another sigh, leaning back in the seat without thinking. Almost immediately, he felt water seep through the back of his shirt. "I'll call her, I will. I just…I don't know, I wanted a few more minutes of being in charge. Of just being in the plane, trying to put myself in their place."

"You could do that better if you conducted more interviews yourself."

"Yeah." He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know, it's just—it's hard not to think about her every time I talk to a survivor."

"You mean Cassie?" Marissa'd heard about his sister so much that she used her name as comfortably as his family did. Maybe even more so, since his parents could hardly stand to talk about her. "That's hard."

That, right there, was one of the things he appreciated about Marissa. She didn't try to tell him to get over a decades-old wound, or to comfort him with platitudes. "It's kind of hard to avoid thinking about her when I talk to survivors. To stop wishing she was one of them."

"You could get a different job. Train conductor, maybe? You'd never have to even ride in an airplane again."

"You know I can't do that."

"I know. Hang in there, okay? And call Toni, right now."

"Yeah, I will. Bye."

Instead of making the call, Gary stayed in the cockpit, steeling himself against Brigatti's reaction. He didn't really care if she yelled at him; what he didn't want to hear was the smug note that would surely creep into her voice when she found out she was in charge of two investigations instead of one. He knew streamlining like this was designed to make sure information was shared, nothing was overlooked, and connections were found, but after nearly three weeks of trying to solve what had turned out to be two versions of the same puzzle on very little sleep, he didn't have a lot of faith in the NTSB's process.

"Hey, Gary." Winslow clambered into the cockpit and dropped into the copilot's seat, which was just as wet as the pilot's, but didn't have the protective plastic cover. "Got anything?"

"The smoke was white." It was another one of Brigatti's tiny details that did nothing to help him pull back and see the big picture. "Let's go over this again." He sat up straight and put his hands on the controls and closed his eyes, imagining the engines' rumble, the wispy clouds that had been present that night streaming past them. "We're headed to Buffalo, good takeoff, looking down at the lake, which is probably just a black hole surrounded by lights. Which one of us notices the smoke?"

"Me," Winslow said. "About four minutes in."

"So a lot sooner than Liberty 1611. If you notice it first, maybe it comes from your side…" Gary trailed off as they both scanned the instrumentation, the floor, the windows. But the smoke hadn't risen, the pilot had said, it had drifted in from the side. "The pilot's side, but the co-pilot's—"

"What?" Winslow asked.

Gary got up and leaned over him, tracing his fingers up the window, along to the ceiling of the cockpit. "There." He stopped, leaving one finger pointing at an infinitesimal crack. "What's in there?" He knew the answer, but he was supposed to be training Winslow.

"Crew oxygen system," Winslow said promptly. "We haven't tested it yet because they didn't use it."

"Neither crew did," Gary pointed out. "Where's the Doring rep?"

"Hasn't shown up yet."

"Damn." Propelled by a sudden wash of cold through his gut, Gary swung himself out of the cockpit and down the ladder. Winslow followed on his heels. "Get somebody down here. Get the maintenance logs. And get me on a plane to Chicago Rockford right the hell now."

~*~*~*~

Toni snuck in a shower before dinner, the first in she was afraid to count how many days. She spent far too long under the hot spray, turning it off only when her fingertips turned into raisins. She'd just stepped out of the tub when someone knocked on her door. She wrapped a towel around herself and stood on tiptoe to peer out the scratched-up peephole.

"Hobson?" she called. What the hell was he doing in her hallway, holding a file folder and a duffle bag? "Aren't you supposed to be in Detroit?"

"I want to show you something."

Whatever he was doing there, she certainly didn't want to show _him_ anything. "Give me a minute."

She slipped into a t-shirt and jeans and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, then opened the door.

He turned from a survey of the hall, though what he might be looking for, she wasn't sure. He followed her into the room, his eyes widening when he saw the bathroom light was still on and steam lingered in the air.

"Sorry. Not used to seeing you, uh—" His gaze lingered on her t-shirt, the only clean piece of clothing she had with her, for a second, then shot guiltily back to her own. "--out of uniform. I should have called first, I just--uh, that is, I thought I should do this in person."

Toni crossed her arms over her chest. "Do what?"

"The crash in Detroit." He held up a folder, as if he'd just remembered he had it. "There's something you should know. I think we're connected. Our cases," he amended at her raised eyebrow. "I think our cases are connected."

Jesus. "How do you ever make it through the pressers, Hobson?" She gestured at the desk. "Sit down, show me."

"Right." He was halfway in the chair when he saw the pictures she'd taped to the wall above the desk. The same photos that had run on the news channels and websites. Every victim and survivor of Liberty 1611. Hobson glanced at her, asking a question she wasn't sure she wanted to answer.

"Come on, sit down, spill." Toni cleared off a space on the desk, keeping her neat piles together as she placed them on the bed, then stood next to Hobson while he opened his file and handed her a printout.

"These are the maintenance logs for the Global CLJ-500." He pointed to a line, and, not for the first time, Toni noticed his hands. Prominent bones, long fingers. She gave her head a tiny shake and refocused on the print. "Look at the entry from September fifteenth."

"A month ago," Toni murmured, reading. "They updated the crew oxygen system. Yeah, that's in 1611's logs, too." She rifled through the files on the bed and pulled out the folder. "Right here. September twelfth. Our Doring rep said they'd been doing a rollout of the new system across the whole fleet of 500s. You think that's the cause of the smoke?"

He opened his tablet, unlocked it, and showed her a picture of a cockpit. "The water did a lot of damage, but there's this crack." He swiped to a new picture, a closeup of beige plastic. "That's the ceiling, right above the cockpit. See that tiny crack? It could have been there for years, for all we know. But what we do know is that right behind it—" He swiped again, with a dramatic flourish to reveal a picture of clear tubes twisted around each other, an O2 mask, and behind it, a tangle of red and black wires. "—is the new crew oxygen system, tucked around the wiring."

Toni bent over his shoulder, reaching in to enlarge the picture. "So you think the smoke came from the new system, or from the wiring behind it?"

"Yeah, not sure which yet, that's why I wanted to talk to you. Because I think we're both dealing with the same problem, and uh--sorry--" Her hair had come lose from its ponytail and flopped, wetly, onto the side of his face. He reached up to tuck it back into place, realized he was touching her, and froze.

"No problem," she said, tucking the traitorous hair back into place, as coolly as if she hadn't just felt an electric jolt at the contact. "Why didn't we see this sooner?"

"Well, for one thing, the cockpit was kinda—" He brought his hands together. "You know."

"Crushed?"

"Yeah. And for another, Lowell, the guy from Doring, led the systems inspections. He never mentioned the update as a possible cause, so we figured—I guess I should say I figured—it wasn't relevant."

"Lowell," Toni repeated. "The guy who's been AWOL for a couple days."

Hobson let out a low whistle. "Yours, too?"

"Jesus." Toni sat down on the bed. She reached back for her reports, then thought the better of it. This was definitely Big Picture Time.

Hobson swirled the chair so he was facing her. "You know what this means?"

"It means somebody at Doring, somebody above our reps, is telling them to shut up. Don't these guys realize we aren't going to take any legal action? We're just trying to prevent—what?" she asked at his baffled expression.

"I, uh, I meant it means you're heading up both investigations. Streamlining and all that. Which is good," he acknowledged, "especially if we think Doring's interfering with—oh, God." His eyes went wide, and for the first time she noticed what an odd color they were. Green, or maybe brown, shifting with the light. "They're rolling out the update across the whole fleet."

Toni put her hands on her knees, her fingers curling into fists against a rising wave of panic. "Lowell must have guessed earlier. They probably thought they could distract from the real cause while they came up with a fix for the issue."

"But then Detroit happened. Look, I know you'll want to go back and comb through all that data to find the evidence to back us up--"

"We'll find it, but first we need to ground all these jets. Have you called Crumb yet?"

He shook his head. "I mean, I did when I realized our cases were related, but not since I figured out how. I didn't want to undermine you." He took a deep breath, looked down at those mesmerizing fingers. "Not again. It's your call to make. I knew you'd make the right one."

"That's why you came here in person?"

He shrugged. Toni reached for her least rumpled NTSB shirt, which was draped over the minifridge, and pulled it on over her t-shirt. "I'll call Crumb. You get the team together in the conference room, make sure we have all the details right when we go to the press."

He nodded. "Winslow's on standby in Detroit. We'll Skype him in. And Miguel."

As he headed for the door, a sudden thought struck her. "Hey, Hobson. What kind of plane did you fly in to get here?"

He flashed her a rueful look. "One guess. White-knuckled it all the way."

"Glad you made it okay. Let's make sure everyone else does from here on out."

~*~*~*~

Marissa found Jessica and her parents in the rehab center, which was really just a wing of the hospital. The city was small enough that the entire medical complex was housed in a single building. Jessica was in the middle of a PT session, as were several other survivors, judging by the clanking equipment, grunts, and shouts of encouragement.

She waited just outside the room for the end of Jessica's session, letting Reilly lead her to a bench seat, where she checked messages on her phone until two sets footsteps approached her spot, then stopped.

"Oh, it's you," a woman's voice said.

"Mrs. O'Grady?" Marissa guessed. They hadn't spoken much, but she recognized the flattened vowels of the woman's Kansas accent.

"Joe and I came to see how Jessica's therapy is coming."

"We're taking her home next week," Mr. O'Grady said.

Marissa nodded, trying to stay neutral, but Mrs. O'Grady must have seen something in her expression, because she added, "Not for good. Just until she can get around on her own. It'll be a long time before her leg heals up, but they're holding a spot for her at the Art Institute. After everything, I wasn't sure she'd still want to go. And I-- --I wanted to keep her close, but--"

"She needs to grow into her own person," Marissa guessed.

"The fact she got herself off that plane with a broken leg tells me she already has," said Mr. O'Grady. "I know she's not happy that she didn't go back for anyone, or get her seatmate out, but I'm not sorry about that."

"Of course not."

"I keep telling her, it was all part of God's plan," Mrs. O'Grady added.

It had as much to do with Jessica's strength and survival instincts as it did with God's plan, but Marissa didn't say so. "If she needs help setting herself up in the city, the NTSB is here for her, and the airline will be, too," Marissa said. "At least financially. I can recommend a counselor; I know a couple in Chicago, and if she ever wants advice about getting around a city on her own, I know a little about that, too."

After that, they joined her on the bench. Mr. O'Grady fussed over Reilly for a bit, asking the usual questions. It was a good way to diffuse any tension, and for all he was a dedicated guide dog who understood his role, Reilly never minded extra attention.

"Hi." Jessica sounded a little breathless when she emerged from PT. The creaking wheels and the direction of her voice told Marissa she was in a wheelchair. "Come to check up on me?"

"Something like that." Marissa pulled a small box out of her bag. "I have something for you. Most of your effects will be released to you before you go home tomorrow, but I didn't want this to get lost in the shuffle."

Jessica took the box. The fingers that brushed Marissa's were crooked from almost two weeks in a cast. "Oh? Oh!" she gasped as Marissa heard the lid come off and land on the floor. "You--it—you found it! Thank you! Mom, can you put it on?"

"Here, honey." Mrs. O'Grady sounded a little choked up. Kind of like Marissa felt. "The paintbrush is bent."

"Like me," Jessica said. "But we'll both figure out a way to work, going forward."

"Where did you find it?" Mr. O'Grady asked.

"Actually, our team did. It was in the field. Hiding under a soybean plant, according to the log."

His voice took on an edge. "Did your team manage to find the cause of the crash?"

At that, Marissa smiled. This family, and a number of others, were about to get the answers they'd been waiting for. "I can't say anything officially, not yet, " she said as she stood and picked up Reilly's harness. "But stay tuned. In fact, you might want to turn on the television when you get back to your room."

~*~*~*~

Brigatti nudged Gary with her elbow. "You sure you don't want to be up there with me?"

From their spot just to the left of the platform where the press conference was about to be held in the briefing room at NTSB headquarters, Gary looked over at the podium and the screen behind it, where the photos of Liberty 1611's victims and survivors were being projected four at a time.

"You don't want me stammering my way through a statement and messing up your big reveal." He returned her nudge. "Go on, Hermione. Tell the people what they need to know."

"You have to explain that to me one of these days," she said.

"Hermione's this character—"

"I know that, geez." She rolled her eyes and headed for the platform. "I just don't see any resemblance."

While Brigatti introduced herself and read the explanation of the problem that had caused the smoke in the cockpits of both the Liberty and the Global flights, and how it had impaired the pilots of Flight 1611—both of whom, it turned out, had been relatively inexperienced--Gary made his way to the back of the room, where Marissa, Winslow, and McCarthy stood listening.

"The blame for this crash doesn't lie on any one set of shoulders," Brigatti concluded. "It is, in fact, an issue related to a corporate culture. While Doring's entire fleet of CLJ-500s is being repaired at this very moment, so that no one else will die from this issue, the practice of rushed upgrades still exists. It's something we here at the NTSB are pledged to counteract."

"She really is good," Marissa whispered at his elbow.

"I guess," Gary conceded in a tone designed to get a rise of out her.

She didn't take the bait. "You'll get another turn, probably too soon."

He started, distracted from watching Brigatti handle reporters' questions like Johnny Bench catching fastballs by Marissa's last words. "What's that supposed to mean, 'too soon'?"

"That I'd rather we have time to write up this report before there's another disaster."

"Fair enough." That was always the tradeoff. Every chance he had to be IIC, every chance Marissa had to log more experience hours, meant other people's lives being thrown into turmoil. He didn't have time to say so, though; the press conference had ended and the reporters were streaming out to file their stories.

"Well done," he acknowledged when Brigatti joined them.

She raised an eyebrow, and his throat tightened. "High praise, coming from you."

"Yeah, well, you—you're not who I thought you were."

"Who was that?"

"Doesn't matter now."

She held his gaze for another moment, then nodded. "I could say the same for you."

Marissa cleared her throat, utterly failing to hide her smirk. "Gary and I have a tradition. When the groundwork on a case is done, we go out for dinner and drinks."

"Let me guess," Brigatti drawled. "A dark, low-class bar, doesn't matter where as long as there's a dart board?"

"McGinty's isn't low-class!" Gary said.

"Oh, no, an Irish bar, I'm sure that's the height of D.C. cuisine."

"It's better than whatever you'd get from the vending machine at your hotel," Marissa pointed out.

"You're still in a hotel?" Gary asked.

Brigatti rolled her eyes. "What, did you think I could just snap my fingers and conjure up an affordable apartment while I was busy solving a case seven hundred miles away?"

"You're going to find a place," Marissa told her as they walked out of the room. "We're going to help, and we're going to start by getting you a decent meal and a drink. Winslow and Jim are meeting us there, but Gary has room in his car if you want to join us."

Brigatti looked over at Gary, and again, there was some kind of question in her expression, something bigger than whether he was okay with giving her a ride. Whatever she saw, though, it must have answered some part of it, because she gestured at the elevator and said, "Yeah, sure, just let me get my things."

"We'll wait," Marissa told her cheerfully.

"You're killing me, Smalls," Gary muttered when the coast was clear. "What are you trying to set up here?"

Marissa responded with an unbothered grin. "Just trying to get you off the ground, partner."

~End~

~*~*~*~

_Me again: I'm so sorry I couldn't work Cat, Miguel, or Armstrong into this story. Maybe the next one? If any other fic writers are still around and want to play with some of those episode ideas HA sent, we could put together a Virtual Season of NTSB: Air Crash Investigators. LMK!_

_\--Lizzie_


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